The Lady
by strings529
Summary: For years, a mysterious lady, dubbed the Lady of Giving, has been leaving food and supplies for the people of Laketown. Nobody knows that The Lady is actually Marie, the Master's niece. When Marie's path crosses with Bard the Bowman, will Bard be able to get past his wife's death, and will Marie be able to keep her secret a secret? (Bard x OC)
1. The Master's Niece

News that the Master's niece was coming to live in Laketown spread quickly to every corner of the town. However, the fact that she was actually coming seemed to be the only thing that the people of Laketown could actually agree on.

"I heard that she's a princess from a far-off land!" someone exclaimed.

"Nonsense!" another person snapped. " _I_ heard that she used to be a pirate, and that she and her crew are coming to take over Laketown!"

"Why would anybody want to take over Laketown?" a third person demanded. "No, I say she's a dragon-slayer and that she's come to kill the beast!"

At that, everyone within earshot glanced fearfully at the Lonely Mountain, as if the great and terrible Smaug would wake up and burn them to a crisp. But the Dwarvish castle of Erebor remained as silent as ever, and the ruins of Dale beside it remained in ruins.

"Has anyone ever stopped to consider that she's just a girl who wants to visit her uncle?" another person asked.

"Definitely not," the first person stated, brushing away the other person's statement without a second thought. "Nobody would want to visit _that_ bucket of slime."

Needless to say, the Laketowners were disappointed when none of their predictions came true.

She arrived in a small barge, which only had enough room to fit herself, one luggage, and the old bargeman who steered the boat. Everyone in the town gathered outside to watch as the sixteen-year-old girl stepped out of the barge, unaided. But if she was intimidated by the eyes of the entire town, she didn't show it; in fact, she merely ignored them all.

A brown cloak covered her body, outlining her slender figure. In fact, she seemed to dance when she walked, and every step practically floated. The hood of her cloak was down, revealing her slightly-wavy blonde hair that reached her chest and her piercing green eyes.

Despite the Laketowners' wild speculations about her, the Master's niece seemed to be _normal_.

Without even acknowledging the crowd of people watching her, she headed to the Master's wooden, rickety mansion and knocked on the door. Everyone watched as Alfrid Lickspittle, the Master's deputy, opened the door. Nobody could hear their conversation, but everyone could see Alfrid step back and let her in. He sneered at the crowd and slammed the door shut behind her.

Soon the people of Laketown began to know the Master's niece by the name of Marie. She was as fair as her uncle was foul, and some people wondered how it was possible for the two of them to be related. In the few weeks after her arrival, Marie had managed to earn a spot in the hearts of all of the townspeople, and they accepted her as one of their own.

As a Laketowner.


	2. A Not-So-Typical Laketown Morning

_3 Years Later_

"She's struck again!"

"Where?!"

"The statue!"

The sun had barely risen, but most of the Laketowners were already awake. Everyone was rushing towards the giant statue of the Master that had been erected in the middle of the town, each person trying to get there before everyone else.

Eventually most of the town was clustered around the statue. The sun had risen slightly higher in the course of the last few minutes, so it was with perfect clarity that the townspeople beheld the vandalized statue.

Someone had taken a chisel and scratched a big X on each of the Master's carved eyes. Dirty underclothes were strewn all around the statue, and paint had been thrown randomly at it, making random clumps of color all over the bronze metal. And, perhaps worst of all, a few barrels' worth of moldy, stinky fish had been thrown around the Master's head, resting haphazardly on his head and shoulders.

But below all of it was a handful of barrels. Already some people had opened them, revealing their precious contents: food, which had been in such short supply lately.

As one, the crowd let out a cheer and rushed forward to try to get at the food, elbowing and stepping on toes mercilessly. But in the midst of all the chaos, one man hung back, his eyes on the statue. He stood alone, an island in the sea of moving people.

"Ho, Bard!" someone called. The man turned his gaze from the statute to see his friend Percy, Laketown's Gatekeeper, walking away from the barrels with a handful of apples. "Aren't you going to take some food?"

Bard shook his head as Percy came to a stop next to him. "No," he answered. "There are others in this town who need it more than I."

Neither of them spoke for a second, but then Percy laughed. "She's definitely stepped it up this time," he commented. "Moldy fish! Ha!"

Despite his attempts at seriousness, Bard couldn't help but smile. "Aye, she has," he agreed. "I must say, I admire her for her spirit. I would like to meet her, if I could."

Percy laughed. "You should know better than that, Bard," he said. "The Lady doesn't let anyone see her." He took a bite of one of his apples. "Well, I'll be off!"

The Gatekeeper walked away, leaving Bard alone once more, with his words echoing in the bargeman's ears; _The Lady doesn't let anyone see her_.

Little did Bard or the rest of the Laketowners know, the subject of their conversation was standing in the shadows about a block away from the statue and wearing the long, hooded cloak that she used to disguise herself. She was watching the Laketowners with a smile on her face; she loved causing mischief in the town, but above all that, she loved watching the reactions of the townspeople when they saw what she had done.

She still remembered her first nighttime mission with clarity. It had been one night about two years ago, and she had been young and inexperienced. She had stolen some of the Master's food at night and left it in the town square for people to find. But someone must have caught sight of her, because the next day, the town was filled with rumors of a lady who gave food to the poor. Before she knew it, she had been dubbed "The Lady of Giving," which had eventually been shortened to just "The Lady."

So she decided to become The Lady. She had continued stealing food from the Master and left it out in places for people to find, and she had donned a hooded brown cloak to cover her so that nobody found out who she actually was. After some time she adopted a symbol for herself that she carved on the containers of food that she left: a rough sketch of a cornucopia, the horn-shaped container that symbolized abundance and nourishment. Eventually she had gotten to the point that she was making statements about the Master, such as her vandalism of the statue. That had finally brought the Master's attention to her, and for a while now he had been trying to find and arrest her.

But, because he was a fool, he hadn't been able to pick up the smallest hint of her trail.

The Lady watched as the crowd of Laketowners began to disperse from the statue. That was her cue to leave; she hadn't allowed herself to be spotted ever since her first mission, and she wasn't going to start now. So she silently slipped away, running swiftly in the shadows back to her house.

She stopped when she was in a dark alley on the other side of town, right across the street from the Master's mansion. The area was deadly quiet; it was like it was a ghost town. The Lady assumed that the Master and Alfrid were asleep and that everyone else was either at the statue or still sleeping. Good; she could get back home undetected.

Quickly, she darted from the alley to the Master's mansion. When she was sure that nobody was watching, she started climbing up one of the vines on the side of the mansion to get to her room.

Nobody in the town, not even her own uncle, had ever suspected that The Lady was actually Marie, the kind niece of the Master who had arrived in Laketown three years ago; she was simply too _innocent_ to be capable of backstabbing her uncle like that. But the truth was that she was perfectly capable of it. She had been doing it for two years, ever since she had become The Lady.

Marie reached her room, which was on the third floor of the mansion, and slowly slid open the window. Whenever she went out, she made sure that the window had enough grease to not squeak when it opened; she had almost been caught sneaking back in when that had happened. When it was opened, she slid inside and shut it behind her.

As the Lady, she was a confident and brave woman who stood for justice and equality. She was brave and strong; she represented the deadly power that a woman could have. The Lady had the entire town looking up to her with an admiration for her open defiance of the Master and respect that was tinged with a bit of mystery, because they didn't even know who she was.

But Marie was the niece of the Master. She had a different sort of power as Marie; she was a sweet young woman who had the adoration of the people. She gave what food and clothes she could to the poor and helped the people along as much as she could. The villagers loved her, and she was a role model for all the little girls of Laketown.

The Lady was a figure of the shadows, darkened by the long nights of the Lake; Marie was a bright ray of sunshine through the thick clouds so close to the rooftops. They were different, as different as two people could be, and that was how Marie kept them in her head: two different people. Just as she had been the Lady just a few moments ago, she was now Marie.

She quickly stripped herself of her cloak and the rest of her costume, then shoved it underneath the loose floorboard under her bed, where it would stay until it was time for her to be The Lady again. She had hidden everything there ever since she had first found the floorboard, but every time she did it, it hurt a bit more; The Lady was becoming a bigger and bigger part of her, and to hide that part of her was like living a lie. Even now, Marie felt a twinge of regret about storing away what she considered her true self.  
But she had no choice; if she came out and told everyone who she actually was, then her uncle would arrest her and most likely have her killed.  
Sighing, she donned her nightgown and climbed into her bed. She had stayed up all night as The Lady, and she was about to faint from exhaustion. She would enjoy the few minutes of sleep that she could get until one of the servants woke her up.  
Then she would return to the life of Marie, the niece of the Master.

000

About an hour later, Bard was paddling his barge towards the Forest River to pick up the barrels from the Elvish kingdom of Mirkwood. The sun was higher in the sky than it had been before, breaking through the thick clouds that seemed to always be hovering on top of the Lake. For the most part, it was just a normal day as a bargeman.

But then he heard something that caused him to slow his barge. Normally the Elves would just send the barrels down the river for him to pick him up, so he never actually had to do any business with them...

... which was why he was surprised that he heard voices around the bend.

He silently anchored his barge behind a large pile of rocks. The voices were coming from the other side of it, and if he listened closely he could hear clipped phrases here and there, but not enough to piece together anything. His hand reached for his bow, and it fit comfortably in his practiced grip; just as the others of his family before him, he had learned to wield the weapon of choice of Lord Girion of Dale, his ancestor who had failed to kill the dragon Smaug before he had taken over Erebor. He sighed, then fitted an arrow into the notch of his bow and crept over the pile of rocks.

Bard didn't know what exactly he had been expecting to see, but he most certainly hadn't thought that there would be a handful of unarmed, very wet, and very grumpy Dwarves, as well as what looked like a Halfling.

Instantly suspicious, he took aim at the youngest-looking Dwarf, but the movement seemed to attract the attention of the others. One of the bulkier Dwarves grabbed a branch and jumped in front of the young one, then brandished it with a yell and charged at Bard. Not even blinking an eye, the Bowman loosed his arrow, embedding it smack in the middle of the branch between the Dwarf's hands. Out of the corner of his vision, Bard saw another Dwarf raise a rock and prepare to throw it at him, but he shot it out of his hands with the same ease as he had the stick. The rest of the Dwarves just stared at him in complete shock.

"Do it again, and you're dead," he stated coolly.

An elderly Dwarf standing at the corner of the group walked forward, his hands raised in the air peacefully. "Excuse me, but, uh, you're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?" he asked. Bard raised an eyebrow, and the Dwarf gestured to his barge. "That barge over there, it wouldn't be for hire, by any chance?"

Bard lowered his bow, and he stared at the Dwarves in silence as he analyzed the situation. Then he walked away from them.

They followed him as he climbed up onto the barge, and he gave them a look as he started loading the Elves' barrels on. "What makes you think I will help you?" he asked.

The white-haired Dwarf gestured to his boots. "Those boots have seen better days," he pointed out. Bard grimaced but didn't reply. "As has that coat. No doubt you have hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?"

Bard didn't even look up at him. "A boy and two girls," he said. Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda...

It seemed like the Dwarf believed that he had struck gold, because his eyes lit up. "And your wife?" he continued. "I'd imagine she's a beauty."

This time Bard paused in his work, trying to control the rush of emotions he felt at the reminder of his wife. "Aye," he agreed sadly. "She was."

The kindly smile slid from the Dwarf's face when he realized what he had just said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" he started.

"Oh, come on, come on, enough with the niceties," another Dwarf grumbled.

Bard turned irritably to look at him, and he recognized the Dwarf as the one with the stick. "What's your hurry?" he asked.

The Dwarf glared at him. "What's it to you?" he retorted.

Bard stopped loading the barge to look at them squarely. "I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands," he told him.

Now the old Dwarf took over, probably before the other one dug their group into a bigger hole than the one that they were already in. "We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills," he answered.

That just caused Bard to raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "Simple merchants, you say?" he challenged.

"We need food, supplies, weapons," another Dwarf spoke up. Bard looked in the direction of the voice to see one of the taller Dwarves, with long, dark hair and icy eyes. He could tell immediately that even though the elderly Dwarf had been talking, this one was the true leader of the group. "Will you help us?"

Bard didn't reply right away as considered the proposition. Then he looked at the barrels and ran his hand over the side of one of them, feeling the various nicks and scratches that had never been on any of the previous shipments of barrels, and ones that were clearly caused by arrows. "I know where these barrels came from," he told them.

The other Dwarves instantly tensed and turned to the leader for guidance, but the Dwarf kept a blank face. "What of it?" he challenged.

Bard looked him straight in the eye. "I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well," he said. "No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes with trade from trade with the Woodland Realm. He will see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."

Without waiting for any of them to respond, Bard loaded the last barrel onto his barge and climbed on after it, making it rather clear that he wasn't going to help them. "I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen!" the elderly Dwarf attempted, drawing closer to the barge.

He nodded. "Aye," he agreed. "But for that, you need a smuggler."

The Dwarf nodded right back. "For which we will pay double," he declared confidently.

Bard eyed him speculatively.

000

Meanwhile, back in Laketown, Marie was in the process of helping her uncle out of bed when Alfrid came walking in.

"The Lady was out again last night, Master," Alfrid reported. He didn't even acknowledge Marie standing there.

The Master let out a growl as he stood up, still leaning on Marie. He was still tired from sleep, even though it was probably around noon by this point. "We haven't caught her yet?" he grumbled.

Alfrid shook his head as he emptied the Master's chamberpot out of a window. "She's hard to find, sire," he said. Marie resisted the urge to smirk. "But she's been stirring the pot. There's been talk of civil unrest."

The Master started walking towards the dresser where his clothes were already laid out, but he suddenly stopped and sat back down on the bed, rubbing his knees. "Gah!" he spat.

Alfrid instantly drew closer. "Gout playing up, sire?" he asked.

Still rubbing his knees, the Master gave Alfrid a nasty look. "It's the damp," he answered. "It's the only possible explanation. Now get me a brandy."

Barely looking at her, Alfrid gestured Marie towards the bottle of brandy on the Master's nightstand. She glared at him, indignant, but she knew better than to protest in front of her uncle. Gritting her teeth, she walked over to pour the brandy.

Meanwhile, the others continued talking without her. "The mood of the people, sire, it's turning ugly," Alfrid cautioned.

The Master scoffed. "They're commoners, Alfrid," he said. "They've always been ugly. It's not my fault that they live in a place that stinks of fish oil and tar. Jobs, shelter, food... that's all they ever bleat about."

 _Yeah, but you can do something about it_ , Marie thought bitterly as she handed her uncle the glass of brandy. He took it, barely acknowledging her, and drank it all in one shot. He handed it back to her and gestured for more. She bit back all the foul things she wanted to say to him and took the glass.

"It's my belief, sire, that they're being led on by troublemakers," Alfrid told him as the Master began to put on his clothes over his nightgown.

The Master frowned. "Then we must find these troublemakers and arrest them!" he declared.

Alfrid nodded. "My thoughts exactly, sire," he agreed.

Marie handed her uncle the second glass of brandy, and he and Alfrid headed out of the bedchamber. "But aren't you trying to arrest the Lady, Uncle?" she asked as she followed them. "You haven't even found her, for that matter."

But he just waved a dismissive hand at her. "This doesn't concern you, Marie," he said. "But we _will_ find her. There's only so long that a woman can stay hidden."

"Well spoken, sire," Alfrid agreed. "She's only a woman. She can't outsmart us for long."

Since she was walking behind him and Alfrid, she felt perfectly free to glare at both of them. "Well, she's been doing a darn good job of it for two years now," she grumbled, too quiet for them to hear.

They reached the study, and the first thing that the Master did was to pour himself another glass of brandy. "All this talk of change must be suppressed," he told Alfrid, as if Marie hadn't even spoken. "I can't afford to let them rebel, band together and start making noises. The next thing you know, they'll start asking questions, forming committees, launching inquiries."

Alfrid nodded. "Out with the old, in with the new," he muttered.

The Master gave him a sharp look. "What?" he asked.

That sent Alfrid backtracking quickly. "That's what they've been saying, sire," he explained. "There's even talk of an election."

"An election?!" the Master exclaimed. "That's absurd. I won't stand for it!"

Irritated, he turned and walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the entire town, and Marie and Alfrid stood there and watched him leave. "I don't think they'd ask you to stand, sire," Alfrid muttered.

For once, Marie agreed with him.

"Shirkers," the Master grumbled irritably. "Ingrates. Rabble-rousers. Who would have the nerve to question my authority?! Who would dare?! Who..." Suddenly, his eyes widened. "The Lady! You mark my words, that good-for-nothing woman is behind all this!"

Okay, so maybe her actions had given the townspeople the idea to rebel against the Master... but _good for nothing?_

Alfrid drew closer to him. "I do believe another person can be held responsible for this, sire," he told him.

The Master nodded. "Of course," he agreed. "Bard. That trouble-making bargeman probably had something to do with this too." He glared out at the town below him. "I'm going to make both of them pay for this!"

Even though he sounded murderous, Marie wasn't scared of her uncle. Because, despite what he and Alfrid seemed to believe, she was _much_ smarter than the both of them combined.


	3. Thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit

Marie had barely drifted off to sleep that night when she heard a loud commotion downstairs.

Concerned, she got out of bed and down the stairs to the entrance hall of the mansion. The servants were all up and gathered around the door, and Alfrid was currently helping the Master into his coat. "Uncle?" she asked. "What's going on?"

The Master pulled his coat closed around him. "There's Dwarves outside," he answered.

Marie blinked. "Dwarves?" she repeated.

He nodded. "Dwarves," he said. "They could be dangerous. Stay here." And with that, he and Alfrid exited the mansion to deal with the Dwarves.

Instantly, Marie was heading after them, but then one of the servants reached out and stopped her. "He said to stay here, Mistress," she said.

Marie smiled at her. "It's fine," she reassured her. "He won't get mad at me." Actually, he probably would, but...

The servant still seemed uncertain, but she let Marie go. "Take a coat, at least," she requested. She passed Marie her coat from where it was hanging on the wall, and Marie took it with a grateful nod. Then, in the process of pulling it on, she headed outside.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the giant crowd that was gathered around the porch, surrounding a handful of guards who were keeping a careful eye on fourteen small figures that seemed to be the cause of the whole commotion. The scene was lit by a handful of torches held by the townspeople, and a light snow was falling.

"We caught'em stealing weapons, sire," Braga reported to her uncle. He seemed rather proud of himself, even though as the Captain of the Guard it was his job to catch criminals.

The Master nodded. "Ah," he said. "Enemies of the state, then."

Alfrid sneered at the Dwarves. "This is a bunch of mercenaries if there ever was, sire," he agreed.

One of the Dwarves glared up at the two of them. "Hold your tongue," he snapped. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!"

He stepped to the side and gestured to a Dwarf with long, dark hair and ice-blue eyes. The crowd started murmuring, wondering if the King Under the Mountain could possibly have returned.

"We are the Dwarves of Erebor," Thorin declared. "We have come to reclaim our homeland." The murmuring increased, and people started craning their heads to see the Dwarves better.

But Thorin ignored the whispers and kept talking, his head held high. "I remember this town and the great days of old," he told them all. He turned to look at the people, his eyes lit with the fire of defiance. "Fleets of boats lay at the harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North!"

The people started nodding, and their eyes seemed to have caught some of that fire that Thorin's had. "I would see those days return!" the Dwarf King exclaimed. "I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

Instantly, everyone was cheering and clapping loudly, probably waking up everybody else in the town who had still been asleep. Even the Master seemed interested in Thorin's proposition.

Even though she wasn't completely sold on the idea, Marie had to admit that she was impressed. In less than a minute, the Dwarf King had managed to win over the people.

"Death!"

Everyone turned around to see who had spoken, and Marie's eyes landed on a striking man with shoulder-length brown hair and determined brown eyes. She had never seen him before, but Laketown was a small town, and she knew who he was: Bard the bargeman. "That is what you will bring upon us," he told Thorin. "Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

The whispers of the people turned anxious now, and they glanced at Thorin suspiciously. But Marie's eyes stayed on Bard, the very man who her uncle had been complaining about earlier that morning. He was getting himself into a lot of trouble by opening his mouth here, but she had a feeling that he knew the consequences and had decided that they were worth it.

"You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the Mountain!" Thorin exclaimed. "You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

Any doubts that the people had before were now gone, and they cheered louder than they had before. The Master smiled happily at Thorin, and for a second it was almost like Marie could read his mind; her uncle was tempted by the promise of not only the gold, but also the opportunity to finally put Bard in his place.

But Bard wasn't going to give up that easily. "All of you!" he attempted, sounding desperate. "Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?!"

Marie hadn't been raised hearing tales of the Mountain, but from the three years that she had lived here even she was saddened by conversation of the city of Dale. Sure enough, the reminder of the age-old tragedy silenced the people, and Bard took advantage of the sudden quiet to press his point. "Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?!" he demanded.

"NO!" the people shouted.

Bard drew himself taller, knowing that he had their full attention now. "And for what purpose?" he asked. "The blind ambition of a Mountain King so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"

The crowd got louder as people started to take sides, and Bard and Thorin glared at each other angrily, neither of them backing down. Marie looked from Bard to Thorin; something inside of her told her to do something, but she was just Marie now. Not the Lady. She had no power to say anything that would convince the people either way.

"Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame," the Master interrupted, silencing the crowd. He pointed an accusing finger at Bard. "Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, _your ancestor,_ who failed to kill the beast!"

Thorin looked at Bard in shock, and the bargeman looked down, breaking eye contact with the Dwarf. The crowd started to clamor angrily, and suddenly Marie felt her heart go out to Bard. He had been trying to protect the people, but they had turned against him, tempted too much by the promise of the gold of the Mountain.

Alfrid nodded quickly. "It's true, sire!" he agreed. "We all know the story; arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark!"

The crowd started yelling angrily at Bard, who seemed to realize that nothing he said would convince the people to believe him. Instead, he looked down at Thorin, his eyes pleading. "You have no right, no right to enter that mountain!" he said angrily.

Thorin was silent for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed as he looked at the bargeman. "I have the only right," he declared.

Then, without waiting for Bard's response, he turned to face Marie's uncle. "I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake," he said. "Will you see the prophecy fulfilled?! Will you share in the great wealth of the people?!" The shouts of the people quieted as they watched in anticipation. "What say you?"

The Master was quiet for several seconds that seemed to stretch into an eternity, but then he smiled and pointed his finger at Thorin. "I say unto you... welcome!" he exclaimed. "Welcome and thrice welcome, King Under the Mountain!"

He spread his arms open in welcome, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Thorin, face still impassive, climbed onto the steps of the mansion and turned to face the audience.

Marie watched as the people hugged each other in excitement and joy, and there were some tears of happiness too. But among all the celebration there was one stony face; Bard looked on at the people as if he were already grieving for them all.

Then he turned and walked away, unaware of Marie's eyes on him.

000

Later that night, sounds of partying could be heard from the Master's mansion as a celebration for the Dwarves was being held. The fair niece of the Master had retired early, claiming fatigue, and nobody had questioned her.

But Marie wasn't tired; how could she be after the excitement caused by the arrival of the Dwarves? No, she wasn't sleeping. She was standing in her room with her hooded cloak on, as well as a bulging bag of food by her side. She was about to sneak out as the Lady.

As quietly as a mouse, she climbed out of the window into the still night, climbing down the very vines that she had used to climb up the mansion earlier in the day. She reached the bottom quickly; then, fleet-footed, she hurried to one of her usual places where she dropped off food. She had multiple drop-off spots and switched up the order every time, just in case her uncle decided to post guards at one of them.

If the Dwarves' plan went as they hoped, the Lady would soon be out of a job.

She thought about that as she ran through the shadows of the town. Of course, the people deserved a better life than this, and maybe with the wealth of the Mountain, Laketown would indeed return to its former state of glory. But a small group of thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit... did they really have a chance against a dragon such as Smaug? Of course, Thorin had explained that it wasn't their plan to fight the dragon, at least not right now; no, they were merely going to to steal the Arkenstone, the King's Jewel, which would then give Thorin the right to call on his kin and their armies to slay Smaug.

But Marie couldn't help but doubt that things would happen that smoothly. What if they woke the dragon? Bard would be right; Laketown would be destroyed. Unfortunately, everyone would be too dead for Bard to say _I told you so._

Bard... He had stood up to her father and that Dwarf King in front of the entire town. She had never seen such bravery from a man of Laketown, and she had to admit that she was impressed. The question was whether or not his courage would change the fate of the Lake or be forgotten when the entire town perished in flames.

Suddenly, she plowed into something, and she stopped herself before she could fall over. "Whoa, are you..." someone started, but then his voice trailed off when he realized who she was. "...okay?"

Marie looked up to see that Bard- the very man who she had just been thinking about- was standing there, looking rather startled to see her. In fact, she was bewildered too, but she kept her cool. "Out of my way," she ordered.

But he just stared at her. "You're the Lady," he stated. He stepped closer. "Who are you really?"

His brown eyes seemed to look through the shadows of her hood and met her gaze, and she panicked, knowing that there was a chance that he could recognize her. Quickly, she turned and fled back to the Master's mansion, her mission forgotten.

And Bard the Bowman stood there in thoughtful silence, staring after The Lady and wondering what exactly had just happened.

000

The sun shone brightly down on Laketown the next morning as the entire town gathered around the sides of the main channel, watching as a boat was loaded with supplies for the Dwarves for their journey to the Mountain. Marie sat next to her uncle and Alfrid on a raised platform above the Laketown musicians, who were playing a merry tune to mark the momentous occasion.

A sudden commotion broke out by the boat, and Marie saw that Thorin was sending one of the younger Dwarves off of the boat- Kili, if she remembered correctly. His brother Fili exchanged some heated words with Thorin, as well as the healer Oin, and the two of them stepped off the boat after Kili.

It seemed like things were settled on the boat, because the Master stood up and waved at the people, who surprisingly cheered and clapped. Well, maybe it wasn't very surprising; after all, he was the one giving the Dwarves the aid that they needed.

"My good people of Laketown!" her uncle exclaimed. Another loud cheer. "We gather here today to celebrate an ending- an ending of the poverty that has plagued our town for too long!"

Marie bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying all that she wanted to say to that statement.

"We put our faith in you, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain!" the Master continued. "We wish good fortune to you in your quest, so that you will bring good fortune to all!" The people cheered again, and the Master waved at the Dwarves in the boat as they pulled into the canal and began to paddle away.

"Goodbye!" one of the Dwarves exclaimed from the boat. A handful of them were bowing and waving at the cheering townspeople, and as they watched the boat seemed to grow smaller and smaller in the distance, until it was past Laketown's borders and the Dwarves in it were well on their way to the Mountain.

Marie looked from the boat to the Lonely Mountain, which seemed to loom darkly on the horizon even though it was a sunny day. She shuddered and turned away from the sight.

"Are you sure that this was a good idea?" she asked her uncle as he returned to his seat.

Alfrid sneered at her. "Of course it's a good idea," he snapped. "You heard the Dwarf. There will be riches coming from the Mountain soon."

Sudden movement by the foot of the platform caught Marie's attention, and she turned to see the remaining Dwarves stumbling up to them. Kili was pale and sweaty, and he was being supported by Oin and Fili. "Please," Bofur pleaded. "Kili's sick. He needs medicine. If you could just-"

"Sick?!" the Master exclaimed. He shot out of his chair, faster than Marie had ever seen him move, and walked backwards, as far away from Kili as he could go. Alfrid followed him, watching Kili warily. "Is he contagious? Get him away!"

"Guards!" Alfrid shouted, his voice seeming higher than usual.

Two armored guards were suddenly there, forcing the four Dwarves back. "Please!" Bofur cried again.

"Marie, get away from him," the Master ordered sharply. "He could get you sick."

But she didn't move right away, instead staring at Kili with wide eyes. She knew that she should listen to her uncle, but every nerve inside her, both Marie's and the Lady's, were screaming at her to help the Dwarves, that she couldn't let her uncle turn away people who were in need of aid.

"Marie!" her uncle barked. " _Now!"_

She thought back to how Bard had defied the Master last night in front of the entire town, trying to do what he believed was right. The memory of the look in his eyes hardened her resolve, and she suddenly knew what she was going to do.

"No," she stated.

Her uncle blinked. "Did I hear you right?" he asked.

Marie shoved past the guards and stood with the Dwarves. "You did," she answered.

He didn't say anything for a second, still trying to wrap his mind around this recent development. "What are you doing?" he finally asked.

She glanced at the sickly Kili, who by this point was beginning to look like he was going to pass out. Then she turned back to her uncle, her chin raised in defiance. "The right thing," she said. She turned to the Dwarves. "I'll help you find the aid you need."

Fili nodded. "Thank you," he told her.

Without a glance back, Marie walked off of the platform. The Dwarves followed her as she pushed her way through the rapidly-dispersing crowd.

" _Marie!_ " the Master shouted after her.

The Dwarves flinched, but Marie didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken. "Where are we going?" Oin asked.

She hesitated, then sighed. "To the one person in this town who would be willing to help us," she answered. "Bard the Bowman."


	4. The Adventures of Bard the Bowman

"What do you want?"

Marie crossed her arms as she looked up at Bard, who was glaring at her from behind his half-opened door. "I need your help," she said. Bard raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well, they need your help."

Bard opened the door farther to see who the _they_ was, and as soon as he did he tried to close it again. "No," he stated. "I've had enough of Dwarves." He shot her a look. "And I try not to associate with kin of the Master."

But Marie stuck her foot out, preventing him from closing the door all the way. "Kili needs a healer and nobody will help him," she told him. She glared at him, her gaze just as ferocious as his. "I've heard rumors of your kindness, Bard. Are they false?"

He was silent for a few seconds, then he glanced at Kili, who was by now leaning completely on Fili.

"Please," Bofur pleaded. "He's very sick."

Bard's gaze turned from Kili to the rest of them as he considered; then, after what seemed like a short eternity, he sighed. "Fine," he said, even though he sounded like he was regretting it already. "Come in, all of you."

Instantly, Fili was pulling Kili through the door, followed by Oin and Bofur. Marie headed after them, but she paused before she passed Bard. "Thank you," she told him. Without giving him a chance to reply, she hurried inside.

The Bowman cast his sharp eyes around the nearby houses, making sure that nobody had seen the Dwarves enter. When he was sure that they were in the clear, he stuck his head back in the house and slammed the door behind him.

000

Marie looked around Bard's small house. The front door led straight into the main room, and the first thing that she saw when she walked in was a wooden dinner table. Off to the right was the kitchen, and farther in behind the dinner table was a small bed. On either side of the bed was a door, presumably leading to more bedrooms.

She watched anxiously as the Dwarves helped Kili onto the bed in the back of the room. The young Dwarf let out a cry of pain when they lifted his leg, which was where, according to the other Dwarves, Kili had been shot by a poisoned Orc arrow. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

Bofur gave her a kind smile. "Go and relax, lassie," he instructed. "You've already done us a great favor." Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned back to Kili.

The Dwarves started propping up the pillows so that Kili was sitting comfortably, and Oin rolled up the Dwarf's pant leg to examine the wound. From where she was standing, Marie couldn't see it, but from the expressions on the others' faces, Kili wasn't doing good.

Sighing, she turned from the Dwarves to the kitchen, where Bard's eldest daughter- Sigrid, if she remembered correctly- was cutting up some vegetables, presumably for lunch. "Do you need help?" Marie asked.

Sigrid looked up in surprise. "Oh, no, it's fine," she replied. "I really don't have much left to do."

Marie glanced at the large pile of uncut vegetables still left. "That's going to take you at least ten minutes," she told Sigrid. "Please. It's the least I can do."

The girl still seemed hesitant, but she nodded and passed Marie a knife. "If you really want to..." she trailed off.

Finally, something to do.

Marie started chopping up the vegetables next to Sigrid, enjoying the brain-numbing rhythm of it. It kept her mind off of other things, like her concern for Kili and the anger in her uncle's voice when she had left to help the Dwarves. "So what are we making?" she asked.

Sigrid finished dicing the last of the potatoes and slid the little pieces into a bowl. "Stew," she answered. "For lunch."

Marie smiled. "Sounds delicious," she said. Sigrid smiled back.

"Sigrid, are you putting our guest hard to work already?"

The two girls turned to see Bard there, an amused smile on his face as he looked at Sigrid. "Sorry, Da," she replied, grinning.

Bard chuckled and ruffled her hair, his eyes warm. Then he turned to Marie, and even though he was still smiling it was more polite than affectionate. "I'll take over here," he told her. "You can go rest."

Marie hesitated. "I-" she started.

He shook his head. "I insist," he said. "You're a guest here. It would be bad manners to make you help with lunch."

The two of them looked at each other for a second, his brown eyes against her green. Then she nodded and placed her knife down on the cutting board. She turned away, and sat down with a huff at the dinner table.

She was used to spending her days helping the servants at the mansion, either cooking or cleaning or tending to her uncle or _something,_ and that was how she liked it. It was strange now for her hands to be idle; not only was it a rare occasion for her to have nothing to do, but without a task to complete her mind started wandering to other things.

For the first time since she had come to Laketown she had stood up to her uncle to his face. She supposed that in a way that she should be proud of herself for finally finding her voice, but she couldn't help but feel a churning feeling in her stomach when she thought of how angry he had been when she had left with the Dwarves. There was no telling what he would do when she returned to the mansion; from the three years that she had spent with him she had learned to fear his temper. Would he go so far as to send guards out to find her?

No, he wouldn't. He knew that she would come back eventually; after all, the rickety mansion was her home. There was no place else she could go.

Her only option was to return, no matter how angry he was. But she would wait until later in the day, when night fell. Until then, she would stay with the Dwarves at Bard's house.

The loud, clear sound of chopping suddenly drew her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Bard in the kitchen, expertly chopping up the carrots. Marie frowned thoughtfully, musing over the strange sight of a man helping to cook. Something like that would never happen in the Master's mansion; she was certain that her uncle and Alfrid didn't know the difference between a pot and a pan. But she could tell that the Bowman knew his way around the kitchen.

Almost as if he could feel her gaze, Bard turned around to look at her. For one awkward moment, they maintained eye contact, but then Marie looked away, her face burning.

This was going to be a _long_ afternoon.

000

"Ah! Ugh! Argh!"

Everyone hovered anxiously around Kili, who was moaning and straining in pain. The hours since they had first arrived at Bard's house hadn't been kind to him; the sun had fallen beneath the horizon already, yet the Dwarf hadn't left the bed. A faint sheen of sweat was covering his face, illuminated by the candlelight.

"Can you not do something?!" Fili demanded, trying to see over Oin's shoulder.

The healer elbowed him away, trying to get some personal space. "I need herbs, something to bring down his fever!" he said.

Bard walked by, pacing as he searched through his bag of medicines. "I have nightshade, feverfew-" he listed.

"They're no use to me!" Oin snapped. "Do you have any kingsfoil?"

Marie frowned. "Why do you want kingsfoil?" she asked. "It's a weed."

Oin gave Bard a look. "Do you have any?" he demanded.

Bard blinked. "No," he said. "We feed it to the pigs."

Bofur nodded. "Pigs? Weed?" he repeated. "Right." He ran towards the door, but turned around and pointed at Kili. "Don't move." Without another word, he turned and ran out of the house, the ears of his hat flapping as he did.

Kili let out a moan in response.

Suddenly, before anybody could say anything else, the ground shook, jarring the house and causing dust to fall from the ceiling. Everyone froze, sharing a wide-eyed glance, and a dark silence fell over the room.

"Da?" Sigrid asked, her voice small.

Bain gulped. "It's coming from the Mountain," he reported.

"They woke the dragon," Marie breathed.

Everyone was silent for a moment, but then Fili walked up to Bard and grasped his arm. "You should leave us," he told him. "Take your children and get out of here." His gaze turned to Marie. "You too."

Bard raised an eyebrow. "And go where?" he challenged. "There is nowhere to go." He turned to look at Marie as well. "You can leave if you wish."

Marie hesitated. "I..." she trailed off. She knew the land to the west well; after all, that was where she had been raised as a child. If she made it off of the Lake, then she knew how to get to safety, where she had lived long ago.

But... in the three years that she had lived on the Lake, she had come to know and love these people. She had spent the last two years as the Lady, watching them in the night. There was no way that she could walk away now, not when Bard's three children were looking at her with wide eyes.

"I'm staying," she decided.

Tilda's eyes begun to water, and she clung to her older sister. "Are we going to die, Da?" she asked.

Bard knelt in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. "No, darling," he soothed.

But the little girl was inconsolable, and tears started running down her cheeks. "The dragon, it's going to kill us," she sniffled.

The Bowman was silent for a moment, looking into Tilda's eyes. Then his face filled with resolve, and he got to his feet. He reached up to the ceiling and yanked down one of the drying racks hanging from the ceiling.

It took a moment for Marie to realize that it wasn't actually a drying rack; no, it was a Black Arrow, the last of the three that had belonged to Girion Lord of Dale... and Bard's ancestor.

"Not if I kill it first," Bard declared.

000

It had taken at least ten minutes of begging on Bain's part to convince his father to take him along to kill the dragon, but Marie had a feeling that it would take longer than that for her.

"What's your plan?" Marie demanded. "Just waltz out there past the guards and hope that you get to the wind-lance without any problems?"

Bard crossed his arms, with Bain peering anxiously over his shoulder. "I have no other choice," he said. "The only other alternative is to let the dragon destroy Laketown." He moved to push past her and head to the door.

But Marie remained where she was, blocking him. "You're going to get caught, and the guards are going to arrest you," she stated. "Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow. "How?" he challenged.

She looked him in the eyes, refusing to back down. "I know these streets at night," she told him. "I can make sure that nobody sees you. Besides, if you run into the guards it might be helpful to have the niece of their boss around."

Bard was silent for a few seconds as he considered her proposal. Then he nodded. "Alright," he agreed.

"Da-" Bain protested.

But Bard just shook his head, silencing the boy. "Lead the way," he told Marie.

Marie blinked, startled that it had been so easy. But then she nodded back. "Alright," she confirmed. She turned to look at Fili and Oin, who were still gathered around Kili; they nodded to her, and then she turned back to Bard and Bain. "Let's go."

The three of them headed out of the house, with the Black Arrow in Bard's grasp. Marie paused outside the door, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh night air. For a moment she was almost convinced that it was just a normal night as the Lady, and that she was sneaking out to leave some food for the people as usual. But no, nothing was normal about this night.

"We have to get going," Bard told her.

Marie turned her attention to the Mountain. It might have been just her imagination, but it seemed larger than usual tonight, as if it knew the importance of the Dwarves' quest and how heavily it weighed in the minds of the people of the Lake.

She shook her head to clear it and started down the steps, followed by Bard and Bain. She paused at the bottom and stuck her head out around the corner, checking to see if any guards were passing by. "Clear," she reported. They hurried down the street with Marie in the lead, with Bard and then Bain behind her. She moved through the streets with a silent grace, confident in her movements; after all, she and the nights of Laketown were close friends.

According to ancient lore, the only thing that could kill a dragon was a Black Arrow shot from a Dwarvish wind-lance; since they had a Black Arrow, they just needed to get to the wind-lance, which was mounted on a tower in the middle of town. Marie had passed it many times during her nighttime missions, but she had never really paid much mind to it. Now she had to get Bard there without alerting the guards.

Even though she had spoken with confidence back in the house, there had been a small bit of doubt in the back of her mind that she would be able to do it; but now that she was in her element, she knew for a fact that she could.

"A Black Arrow?" Bain demanded, glaring at his father. "Why did you never tell me?!"

There was the sudden sound of footsteps, and Marie gestured the others off to the side. They ducked behind a nearby wall, squeezing together to stay hidden from sight. A handful of guards neared, but they walked past without noticing them.

"Because you did not need to know," Bard hissed as soon as they were in the clear.

It seemed like Bain was going to retort, but Marie turned to face both of them. "The wind-lance is right here," she told them, gesturing to the tower. "What's the plan?"

Bard stuck his head out from behind the wall, looking at the wind-lance. "Bain, Marie; I need you two to distract the guards," he instructed. "Once I'm at the top of the tower, I'll set the arrow to the bow."

Marie frowned. "But-" she started.

"There he is! Bard! After them!"

Marie's eyes widened, and she felt herself descending into blind panic. "It's Braga!" she exclaimed. "We have to hide!"

Bard gave her a look that clearly said that he thought she was crazy. "They'll find us!" he told her. "We run!"

Without giving her a chance to reply, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her along, followed by Bain. Braga and his unit of soldiers took off after them. "Quickly! Down there! Go!" Bard yelled. He glared at Marie as they ran. "I thought you said you'd make sure that nobody would see us!"

Marie glared back. "I know the normal guard routes, but this isn't one of them!" she retorted. "They're looking for you!"

"Stop him!" Braga shouted from behind them.

Suddenly Marie saw a shop in front of them, but Bard showed no sign of stopping. "Bard!" she warned.

"Just keep running!" he ordered.

They tore through the shop, knocking over various items in their way, and the shopkeepers started yelling angrily. "Sorry!" Marie apologized. "I'm really sorry-"

"Where's the Lady when you need her?!" Bain cried.

 _Right here, Bain_ , Marie thought grimly.

By that point they had put enough distance between them and the guards that Marie couldn't hear their shouts. Bard pulled her and Bain to a stop; then, when he had made sure that the guards had yet to catch up, he gave the Black Arrow to his son. The boy stared at it in confusion, looking rather dazed, and Bard shook him. "Bain!" he exclaimed, drawing his attention back to him. "Bain. Keep it safe. Don't let anyone find it." He looked again down the road to make sure that the guards were still behind. "I'll deal with them."

Bain blinked. "I won't leave you!" he protested.

Suddenly there was the sound of armored footfalls on the docks, and Bard pushed Bain away. "Go!" he ordered. The boy took off without any further encouragement, and he turned to Marie. "You too!"

Marie nodded and started after Bain; but then suddenly she was caught in a rough grip. She let out a cry and tried to force her way out, but the grip was too strong. "Stay right where you are," her captor said roughly. Marie instantly recognized the voice as the one belonging to the Captain of the Guard.

Bard's eyes narrowed. "Braga, let her go," he demanded, his voice cold.

But Braga just smirked at him. "The last time I checked, you aren't in any place to make demands, Bard," he replied. "You're under arrest."

The Bowman raised an eyebrow. "On what charges?" he challenged.

Braga's smirk deepened. "Any charge the Master chooses," he answered.

As if on cue, there was the sound of footsteps from behind them, and Marie and Bard turned to see that more guards had approached. They were surrounded.

For the first time that night, Marie felt herself begin to truly despair.

But then she glanced at Bard, his face determined even though they were surrounded, outnumbered, and unarmed, and suddenly her resolve strengthened. She wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Angrily, she lifted her foot and stomped hard on Braga's foot. He let out a shout of pain, and his grip on her loosened but didn't give. Then Bard punched him in the face, causing him to stumble backwards and let go of Marie. Instantly, the two of them were running away as fast as they could, matching eachother stride for stride. "After them!" Braga yelled.

Meanwhile, unknown to any of them, Bain hid the Black Arrow underneath the ropes and fishing gear at the foot of the boat by the statue of the Master that the Lady had just recently vandalized.

Marie stumbled to a stop when the street suddenly led into a channel of water, but Bard kept running, leaping across the channel using boats as stepping stones. "Keep going!" he shouted to her.

She hesitated, but she could hear the guards nearing. That was encouragement enough for her to follow Bard across the channel.

They both made it safely to the other side, but there was no time for celebration, even when one of their pursuers slipped and fell into the water. Instead they kept running, trying to put enough distance between them and the guards.

Ahead of them, Marie saw a door open, and she skidded to a stop; but Bard kept running and tripped over a foot in the doorway that hadn't been there before, sending him flying into a pile of wood.

"Bard!" Marie exclaimed.

But then the Master and Alfrid stepped out of the doorway, smug smiles on their faces. "Uncle?!" she asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Bard suddenly let out a moan and tried to sit up; but before he could the Master lifted his wooden cane and hit Bard in the head with it, knocking him out.

Instantly, Marie turned to run, but by this point Braga and other guards had caught up to her, blocking her escape. She turned back to her uncle, who was still grinning. "Why, hello there, Marie," he said. "You're under arrest."


	5. Prison Talk

"... What happened?"

Marie glanced across the prison cell to see that Bard was finally coming to his senses. He still looked a bit dazed, but then, that was better than being totally knocked unconscious. "We got arrested," Marie answered simply. "We're in a cell in the barracks."

Bard shakily climbed to his feet and looked around their bare cell, furnished with only a small bed in the corner and a urine bucket. He headed to the bars and peered out; even though Marie couldn't see from this angle, she knew that he was looking out at a small hallway with a group of guards at its opening, all of them laughing and celebrating the soon-to-come wealth from the Mountain. Braga and the other guards who had captured them were included. "Let us out!" Bard shouted, shaking the bars.

But the guards just ignored him, and Marie sighed irritably, still sitting on the floor. "I tried that already," she told him. "They won't listen. I checked the window too, if you were going to try ramming your head against that next. It won't budge, but there's a marvelous view of the main canal below us if you want to look at it."

He turned to look at her, ignoring the sarcastic remark. "How long have we been in here?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Fifteen minutes?" she guessed.

Apparently that wasn't good news, because the Bowman started pacing back and forth along the length of the cell. "What about Bain?" he wanted to know.

Marie shook her head. "He wasn't caught, so I'm assuming he was able to hide the Black Arrow and return to your house," she reassured him. "And if it makes you feel any better, I haven't heard any screaming yet, so it seems that Smaug hasn't come and killed everyone."

Bard's eyes suddenly widened. "Smaug," he breathed, apparently just remembering that there was a giant firedrake just across the lake from them. He ran to the bars again. "Listen to me! You don't know what's coming!"

Braga just sneered at him. "Oh, shut up, bargeman!" he snapped. Then he turned back to the celebration, taking a big swig of beer as he did.

Marie sighed. "I told you they won't listen," she said.

Bard glared down at her. "Maybe they won't listen to me, but won't they listen to you?" he asked. "You're the Master's niece."

She gave him a look. "If they cared about that, do you think I would be in here?" she challenged. She shook her head. "I got my uncle mad at me when I helped bring the Dwarves to you, so I've officially been stripped of any unofficial power I had as the Master's niece. I'm stuck here with you either until Smaug comes and kills us all or my uncle has a change of heart and lets us go; by this point I think death by dragon is more likely."

He sighed. "So we're stuck here," he summed up.

Marie nodded. "Pretty much," she agreed. He sighed again and sat down on the floor across from her.

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, but then Bard shook his head. "I didn't mean for things to turn out like this," he said. "I'm sorry to have dragged you into it."

Marie was silent as she thought that over. She had been alone for the fifteen minutes that the Bowman was still unconscious, and during that time she had begun to blame him for the situation that they were currently in. But now, hearing him apologize... well, he was just as much a victim of circumstance as she was, wasn't he?

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault," she replied. She sighed. "If anything, we should blame Thorin for going to that blasted Mountain and starting this all."

Bard's gaze drifted to where the Mountain stood, even though they couldn't see it from their cell. "Do you think they've been killed yet?" he asked.

Marie followed his gaze, as if she would be able to tell what was going on in the great castle of Erebor just by looking. "Who knows?" she sighed.

Silence fell between them again, and Marie found herself thinking of their possible demise at the hands of the dragon. Somehow she hadn't imagined her death to be like this, to be stuck in a jail cell with Bard the Bowman of all people: yet it wasn't the worst of possible endings, if she thought about it. In fact, she was beginning to feel a sort of strange camaraderie with him- after all, they had been arrested together, and if the dragon came then he would probably be the last person she spoke to before she died.

Bard spoke after a few seconds. "You said that your uncle got mad at you for helping the Dwarves," he said. "Why did you do it?"

She turned her gaze to him, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he felt the camaraderie too. "It was the right thing to do," she answered simply.

He nodded, and Marie saw something in his eyes then that she hadn't seen before: respect. "You're not like them," he said.

Marie was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement, but then she shrugged. "I wasn't raised here," she pointed out. "I grew up in Edoras."

Bard blinked in surprise. "You're from Rohan?" he repeated.

She nodded. "My mother lived in Edoras all of her life," she told him. "My father moved there from Laketown."

He gave her a look. "How did you end up here, then?" he asked.

Marie hesitated, realizing that she had never told anybody on the Lake about her past. But for some reason she trusted the Bowman, even though she had barely known him for twelve hours; and after all, if they were going to die, then there wasn't any harm in it. "Some of our neighbors decided to go travel to Helm's Deep," she said. "My parents had friends there, so they went along." She laughed dryly. "I was sixteen at the time, and it was the first time they let me stay home instead of traveling with them. I was excited for them to come back and see that I hadn't burned down the house by accident. But a few days after they had left about half of them returned; they said that they had been attacked by Orcs on the road, and they were the only ones who had survived. My parents weren't with them.

"My mother's family didn't want to take me in, since they had never particularly liked my father and they said I was too much like him. So that left me with the choice of either fending for myself without anybody watching out for me or coming to Laketown, to live with the Master- my father's brother. I decided to come here, and, well... you know the rest."

Bard was silent as he mulled over what Marie had just said. He thought back to when she had first arrived on the Lake, three years ago, and the wild rumors about her, dreamed up in the imaginations of bored Lakemen. By the time she had arrived half of the town was convinced that she was some sort of supernatural figure, and it had taken quite a few weeks after that for them to stop gawking at her whenever she was in public. Bard had pitied her then, but now that he knew her story he suddenly realized how strong she was. She had been sixteen years old and grieving for her parents; she was a stranger in a new town that was prone to gossip and wild speculation about newcomers, and she had an uncle who treated her like she didn't matter: yet despite of all of that, she was still here years later, her head held high in silent defiance.

Granted, _here_ was currently a jail cell, but that was mostly his fault.

"I'm sorry," he told her. The words didn't seem like nearly enough, but he didn't know what else to say. "Do you... do you ever regret it?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes," she replied. "Sometimes I wish I were anywhere else but here, even if it meant starving on the streets of Edoras. But ever since I've come here I've done things that I wouldn't trade for anything."

Bard raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" he asked.

Marie looked out the window at the streets of Laketown, illuminated by the lamps from the houses and the full moon above them, and for a second she was lost in the thoughts of the long hours spent under the night sky as the Lady. But then she turned back to Bard, and she realized that she couldn't answer his question. Telling him about her past was one thing, but telling him about the Lady... it was her biggest secret, one that she had kept locked up inside her for two years. She wasn't going to tell anyone, not even the Bowman.

Instead she changed the subject. "You're not like them either," she said.

If he realized that she was avoiding the question, he didn't push it, which she appreciated. "I try to survive and raise my children," he replied. "That's all."

She gave him a small smile. "You do a fine job of it," she reassured him. "Your children are wonderful."

Bard chuckled. "They haven't always been this way," he told her. "They've had their ups and downs, all three of them." He sighed wearily and leaned his head back on the wall, looking up at the ceiling above them. "It was hard to raise them alone."

Marie would have asked where their mother was in all of this, but she- as well as the rest of Laketown- knew that Bard's wife had died giving birth to Tilda before Marie had arrived on the Lake. Bard had raised the children by himself for years now without aid from others, and some people said that he loved his wife so much that he would never remarry.

"You must miss her," Marie said, knowing where Bard's mind was.

Bard sighed. "That I do," he agreed. He turned his gaze to her, giving her his full attention. "We met when we were toddlers, did you know? She punched me in the face because I wouldn't let her play tag with us."

Marie smiled. "Why didn't you?" she asked.

He laughed. "Because she was a girl," he admitted. "I had a black eye for weeks." Marie laughed with him, and he shook his head sadly, even though there was still a hint of a smile on his face. "I didn't know that one day she would be the most beautiful woman on the Lake." He sighed. "She could have had anyone, but out of all of them she chose me even though she knew that I couldn't offer her much. I can't pretend that I understand that choice, but I'm glad. Those years with her... they were the best of my life."

By this point he was staring out the window, lost in thought. "What was she like?" Marie wanted to know.

Bard smiled at the memory. "She was... good," he answered. "Stubborn and untamable, yes, but good at heart. Wild but pure."

Marie placed a comforting hand on his, and he turned his gaze from the window to look at her. "She sounds like she was someone I would have liked to meet," she said.

Bard nodded. "She would have liked you," he told her. "It's a pity that she... that she was gone by the time you arrived."

Neither of them spoke for a second, but then Bard gave her a small smile. "I believe that I owe you an apology," he said.

Marie raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked.

He nodded. "When we first met earlier today I said that I don't deal with family of the Master, and I was rather... brusque for the rest of the day," he told her. "I judged you too harshly. I thought that because you lived in the same house as the Master that you were just as selfish as he is. But now I know that's not the case." He gave her a small smile. "I've lost out on a good friend all these years because I was too stubborn to see you for the person you are, Marie, and I apologize for that."

She smiled back, oddly touched by the words of the Bowman. "Well, now that we're apologizing to each other, I have something to apologize for too," she replied. Bard gave her a confused look, probably wondering what she had to apologize for, but she held up a finger, requesting silence. "I am deeply, _deeply_ sorry for dumping four Dwarves on your doorstep."

They both laughed, and for a few seconds they both forgot that they were in prison, or that there was a dragon just a few miles away that could possibly kill them; instead they were just two people having a conversation. They were at ease together, not because they were the only two people in the cell, but because they, strangely, had become friends.

"So tell me," Bard said. "If you're from Rohan, do you know how to ride a horse?"

Marie grinned at him. "I tried," she replied. "Multiple times. But horses and I... we don't get along. Moving to Laketown was probably one of the best things that's ever happened to me in that I don't have to deal with those _beasts._ "

Bard laughed, but before he could reply, there was a _whoosh,_ and a giant wind gushed through the windows of the cell. Instantly, they were both on their feet and staring out the window, where they could both see a red winged figure sweeping through the air above the town.

"Talking of beasts..." Marie muttered.

"I was right," Bard breathed in horror. "Thorin Oakenshield woke the dragon."

Instantly he was running towards the bars, shaking them again. "Open the door!" he shouted. He tried to force open the lock, but it wouldn't budge. "Do you hear me?!"

But the guards were gone; they must have left while Marie and Bard were talking. He grabbed the empty urine can and smashed it against the bars repeatedly; each bang rang clear with the sound of metal against metal, but still the guards didn't come.

Outside, there was a sudden roar, and Marie turned to see that Smaug had let out a line of deadly fire across the length of the town. "Open the door!" Bard shouted again.

Marie reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him from banging the can. "It's not going to work," she said hollowly. "We can't get out that way."

"No," Bard stated. "No, it has to work... We have to get out!"

Even from inside the cell they could hear the screams of the people that they both loved, each one like a stab to the heart. Despite their efforts in the past and whatever they tried in the cell, there was nothing that they could do to save the people of the Lake.


	6. The Dragon- Slayer

Smaug was much larger than Marie had been led to believe.

She stared out the window of the small jail cell, watching the red dragon flying through the air, his serpentine tail flicking behind him. His wings were spread wide, leathery like a bat's, and his claws glinted as if they were made of the metal of the old Elvish swords. Fire blew from his mouth, setting more buildings of the Lake aflame. In a strange way, the scene was breathtaking.

"I suppose you get your _I-told-you-so_ moment," she remarked dryly.

Bard frowned thoughtfully, ignoring her. He was standing next to her by the window, but instead of looking at the dragon like Marie was his gaze was on the channel below them, where some of the quicker Lakemen were already evacuating, rowing out of the town on their barges. In a few minutes Marie was certain that others would join them, and the water would be filled with evacuees.

She gave him a look, observing his expression. The two of them barely knew each other, but she could tell that he was thinking hard, trying to find a way to get them out of this. "What's the plan?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing, so far," he answered. "If we had a rope we could tie it to the bars on the window throw it out, where it would catch onto one of the barges-"

"-which would then pull the entire wall off, which would then free us," Marie finished.

Bard nodded. "Exactly," he agreed. "The only problem is that we don't have a rope."

They were silent as they tried to think of a solution, but then they both snapped their fingers at the same time. "The blanket," they said in sync. Hurriedly, both of them ran over to the bed. Bard yanked the blanket off and started ripping it into strips, which Marie grabbed and tied together in tight knots.

In a few seconds Marie was holding a rope about fifty feet long, made of the blanket strips. She passed it to Bard, who tied both ends to the bars on the window, making a loop. "Tell me when," he told her.

Marie glanced out the window and saw a handful of boats passing by. "Now!" she shouted.

Without even a second of hesitation, Bard tossed the rope out of the window. "Get back!" he ordered. He pushed her against the far wall, blocking her with his body, and then she could feel his heartbeat, his breath, his warmth against hers. She glanced up at him, but his eyes were crunched up, bracing for impact.

And then there was a loud _bang_ , and rubble went flying everywhere. Bard flinched, but then he was moving the next second, hurrying towards the now-open cell. Marie followed him and glanced out at the town. Houses were burning in every direction that she looked, and Smaug was still flying overhead, screeching his anger. The channels were filled with boats, but her eyes were drawn to one that was right in front of them, already half sunken. At first Marie thought that it was because there was a hole in the boat, but then she realized that it was weighed down with gold. The boat could only belong to one person.

Her uncle.

Sure enough, the Master was standing in the back of the boat, and Marie frowned when she saw him there. She was tempted to throw the urine can at him, but then she noticed that he was coughing, and their makeshift rope was around his neck.

"We almost choked my uncle!" she exclaimed in horror.

Bard scoffed. "Serves him right," he said. He turned to her. "We're still not out of this yet; I need my bow. Where would it be?"

Marie raised an eyebrow. "You're still going to kill the dragon?" she asked. He nodded, and for a second she was silent. Then she squared her shoulders. "I'll lead the way."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Let's go," he agreed.

Instantly Marie was climbing out of the cell, pulling herself onto the roof. Bard followed her, and in a second they were both on top of the prison cell. Smaug suddenly let out a roar, and Marie almost fell off from her precarious position on the roof. But she steadied herself at the last second, then took a deep breath and started hurrying along towards the guardroom.

It only took a minute to reach the guardroom window. Marie gestured to it, and Bard nodded. He looked at the window for a second, bracing himself, then swung his feet at it. The glass shattered on impact, and Bard swung into the guardroom. Marie followed him and landed inside just to see him swinging his quiver over his shoulder. He grabbed his bow and tested the string, then nodded in satisfaction.

The Bowman turned to face her, his expression resigned. "This is where our paths part, Marie," he told her.

She frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He glanced out the window, where the tall bell tower could be seen, standing taller than the other buildings. Smaug had yet to set it on fire. "I have to kill the dragon," he said. "I wouldn't ask you to come with me."

Marie hesitated, her thoughts torn. She knew the noble thing would be to go with Bard, even though it wasn't like she was going to be able to do much; but every survival instinct within her shouted at her to leave, to do as he said and leave Laketown.

It seemed like he sensed her hesitation, because he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please, get off of the Lake before the dragon destroys it all," he requested. "Find my children, if they survived. Take care of them... until I return."

Marie remained silent for another second, but then she nodded. "Alright," she agreed.

Bard gave her a small smile. "Thank you," he said. "Let's go."

They climbed out of the window and pulled themselves back up onto the rooftops. "Good luck," Marie told him.

He nodded. "You too," he replied. "Be careful."

Silence fell for a second, both of them knowing that this could be the last time that they saw each other. Marie felt that she should say something to the man who she had barely known for twelve hours but who she already considered one of her closest friends, but words suddenly failed her.

So instead of saying something, she pulled him into a hug.

Bard stiffened, obviously not having expected that, but then he hugged her back with his free hand. "You should go now," he said. "Swim to one of the barges and get on board. They'll take you to shore."

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. "You'd better get out of this alive, Bard," she told him.

The Bowman nodded. "I will," he replied. But it was an empty promise, and they both knew it.

Marie hesitated for one more second, then turned and started making her way down the building towards the channel below them. Bard remained where he was on the rooftops, watching to make sure that she made it down safely. Then, when he saw her jump into the water and start swimming, he turned and started running over the rooftops, making his way to the bell tower.

He was going to kill the dragon.

000

The water was cold.

Marie knew full well that it was the middle of winter, so she should have been expecting the sudden drop in temperature when she dove into the water. But it was far colder than she had predicted, and it was all she could do to keep swimming, trying to find a barge that would stop for her. Her uncle was long gone- not that she would have ever gotten onto his barge, even if she could find him. Everyone else in this small town were practically strangers to her; none of them would help her, even if she asked them. She was certain of it.

"Hey, Marie! Marie! Over here!"

She turned around to see a small barge making its way towards her. Rowing it was a red-haired woman dressed in strange clothes, but she knew everyone else in the barge well: Bofur, Oin, Kili, Fili, Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid. They had made it.

The barge pulled up to her, and Fili and Kili pulled her aboard. "Th- thanks," Marie stuttered, trying to prevent herself from shivering from the cold.

Instantly, Kili pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her. "Here," he told her.

She shook her head and tried to give it back to him. "You're sick," she protested. "Keep it. I'll warm up eventually."

Kili grinned at her. "Tauriel healed me," he told her. "I'm fine. You need it more than me right now."

Marie raised an eyebrow. "Tauriel?" she repeated.

Fili gestured to the red-haired woman. "She's an Elf from Mirkwood," he explained. "She saved us from Orcs- it's a long story." Marie nodded to Tauriel, who nodded back.

Sigrid leaned forward, her eyes shining with concern. "Marie, where's Da?" she asked. "Bain said that he was with you."

Marie hesitated. "We-" she started.

"Da!" Bain suddenly shouted.

"DA!" Tilda screeched.

Everyone whirled around to see Bard standing atop the bell tower, his bow in his hands and aimed at Smaug. As they watched, the Bowman shot an arrow, and even though he was far away it seemed to Marie that he had hit Smaug.

"He hit it!" Kili exclaimed, apparently seeing the same thing that Marie had. "He hit the dragon!"

Tauriel shook her head. "No..." she told him.

Kili whirled around to face her, his eyes bright with excitement. "He did!" he protested. "He hit his mark, I saw!"

But the Elf just looked at him sadly. "His arrows cannot pierce its hide," she explained. "I fear nothing will."

Marie looked up at Bard again, her eyes wide when she realized what she had forgotten: the Black Arrow. Bard didn't have the Black Arrow. Without it he had no chance against Smaug. How could both of them have forgotten that he needed the Arrow?

No, he hadn't forgotten. He knew full well that he needed the Arrow, but he also knew that there was no time to try to find it. So he had gone ahead anyway, risking his life on the small chance that he would somehow be able to kill the dragon without a Black Arrow.

Why had she let him go? She should have insisted that he come with her, that he flee Laketown just as everyone else was doing...

Suddenly Bain leaped up, grabbing a hanging hook that they were passing under and swinging clear of the boat. Instantly, everyone tried to pull him back into the boat, but he was out of their reach. "What are you doing?!" Bofur shouted.

"Come back!" Fili yelled. "Bain, come back!"

Marie glanced back up at Bard on the bell tower, and she suddenly had a sinking feeling that she knew what he was trying to do. "Bain, you can't help him!" Marie cried. "Nobody can!"

Bard had tasked her with watching over his children, and she had already failed in the minute that she had been with them.

As they watched, Bain used the hook to swing to the dock, and he ran to one of the boats that were docked under the very statue of the Master that Marie had vandalized two days ago as the Lady. Already it seemed so long ago, like it was in a different lifetime.

"Leave him!" Tauriel ordered. "We cannot go back!"

"Bain!" Tilda cried, one last attempt to change his mind.

But the boy didn't pay any attention to her; instead, he grabbed something from the boat and made his way towards the bell tower. At first Marie couldn't make out what he had just retrieved, but then Smaug made a pass at some nearby buildings, lighting them on fire, and she could see it.

He had gotten the Black Arrow.

000

Bard kept a trained eye on Smaug as he reached for another arrow from his quiver. His hand closed around empty air.

Quickly, he whirled around to look at his quiver, which he had hung up on the bell tower. It wasn't empty as he had feared, but there was only one left.

He only had one more chance.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the arrow and fitted it into his bow. He focused on the dragon again, its serpentine form twirling through the air... and he loosed the arrow.

Smaug suddenly flew past the tower, the wind from his wings knocking Bard over. The arrow made contact with the dragon's hide, and Smaug let out a howl. For a second Bard allowed himself to hope that he had hit the dragon, but a moment later he saw that the arrow had bounced off, just as the ones before it.

There was nothing more he could do.

"Dad!"

Bard whirled around to see Bain there. "Bain?!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?! Why didn't you leave?! You were supposed to leave!"

Bain glared at him, refusing to back down. "I came to help you," he said.

Bard shook his head. "No!" he replied. "Nothing can stop him now!"

But that just caused Bain to smirk, his expression smug. "This might," he replied. He held up his hand, and in it was the Black Arrow.

The Black Arrow...

He felt a sudden wave of gratitude for his son, and he placed a comforting hand on Bain's face. "Bain, you go back," he ordered. "You get out of here now."

Bain began to reply, but then his eyes widened in horror at something behind Bard. "DAD!" he shouted.

Before Bard could fully comprehend what had just happened, there was a cracking sound, and out of the corner of his eye Bard caught a glimpse of the tail of the dragon. But then he and Bain went flying, and Bard landed with a grunt on the floor of the tower.

He pulled himself up, ignoring the stab of pain, and he saw that the entire top of the bell tower had been smashed by Smaug's attack. The bell was gone, as well as the structure that had held it...

And Bain.

Bard sprung to his feet in a panic, but then he noticed a hand clinging to the edge of the tower. "BAIN!" he cried. He scrambled towards the edge and saw that it was indeed his son who was clinging to the tower. He had one hand clamped around the edge, and in the other was the Arrow. Instantly, Bard grabbed Bain's arm and pulled him up on the tower.

"Who are you that would stand against me?!" Smaug suddenly roared. Bard whirled around to see that he had captured the dragon's attention; Smaug's terrible orange eyes were fixed on him and the bell tower.

Bain stood there, shaking, but Bard had no time to comfort his son. Instead, he pulled the Black Arrow out of his hands and reached for his bow-

Only to find that it had broken.

The dragon let out a sound that sounded like a chuckle. "Now that is a pity," he commented dryly. "What will you do now, Bowman? You are forsaken. No help will come."

Bard glanced around frantically, trying to improvise, but there was nothing he could use to fix his bow. He had the Black Arrow, but he had no way to shoot it.

Smaug started walking forward, crushing the buildings beneath him ominously. "Is that your child?" he asked, gesturing to Bain with his head. "You cannot save him from the fire. He will BURN!"

Bain...

Suddenly it clicked, and Bard knew what to do. He grabbed the two halves of his broken bow and stuck them into the walls of the bell tower, with the bowstring taught between them. "Bain!" he ordered sharply. His son hurried forward, and Bard positioned him in the middle of the two walls. Then, carefully, he fixed the Black Arrow on Bain's shoulder.

He tried to aim it at the dragon, but the Arrow kept shaking, throwing off his reference point; it took him a second to realize that it was because Bain was shivering, his eyes wide with fear. Bard grimaced, wishing that he had time to ease his fears, but there was no time. "Stay still, son," he instructed. "Stay still."

"Tell me, wretch!" Smaug shouted, still approaching. "How now shall you challenge me?!"

Smaug continued walking forward, and suddenly Bard saw what he needed: a missing scale on Smaug's chest, the scale that was broken by Girion all those years ago. A small smile crossed his face; he had found his target.

"You have noting left but your DEATH!" Smaug roared.

The dragon let out a howl and started approaching rapidly. Bain tensed and tried to look over his shoulder. "Bain!" Bard exclaimed. "Look at me! You look at me!"

Bain turned back around, and Bard pulled the bowstring taught, his muscled arm already beginning to shake with the effort of holding the arrow taut. He looked at the dragon, trying to aim his shot. "A little to your left," he ordered. Bain did as he said, moving the tip of the arrow to the right and lining it up perfectly with the missing scale.

"That's it," Bard whispered.

And he released the arrow.

He watched as it flew from Bain's shoulder at high speeds, faster than any arrow that Bard had ever shot before. It sliced through the air and embedded itself deep into Smaug's chest, right where Bard had wanted it. He had done it.

Smaug let out a roar of pain, and he flinched, careening into the bell tower. Bain let out a cry, startled by the impact, and Bard reached out and grabbed him as they fell with the tower towards the water.

They landed with a _thud._

The dragon screeched and fell to his side, rolling around in panic and crushing all the buildings that he had yet to set fire to. He struggled to launch himself into the sky, his last refuge, and he managed to fly a few hundred feet up, screaming and wheezing in pain.

Suddenly it seemed like time froze. He no longer felt the pain of the Arrow embedded inside of him, or his wings flapping, or the need to breathe. No, he was weightless, floating in midair without a care in the world.

And then his vision slowly started to shrink, the cold, bright stars above him being consumed by an infinite darkness until that was all there was: darkness.

His body fell back down to the Lake, crashing down on the Master's barge filled with gold. His eyes were dull, lifeless.

Smaug the Terrible had met his end.


	7. The Morning After

_Please, get off of the Lake before the dragon destroys it all. Find my children if they survived. Take care of them... until I return._

Marie shook her head, trying to clear Bard's voice from her mind. She didn't need to be thinking of him, not when the rest of Laketown needed her.

The rest of Laketown...

She turned her attention back to the present just as their barge neared banks of the Lake. In the dim half-light of the dawn, she could see that the other survivors had made their way here, as well as what seemed to be every single little bit of wreckage from the town. It was only when they drifted closer that Marie saw that there were dead bodies in the water too.

Dead bodies...

Tauriel pulled the barge up to the shore, and instantly Tilda leaped out onto the ground. "Da!" Tilda shouted. "Da!" Without warning, she took off towards the large crowd of refugees.

"Tilda!" Sigrid cried. She jumped out of the barge and ran after her little sister. "Tilda, come back!"

Marie glanced at the remaining people in the barge- Tauriel and the Dwarves- but they seemed just as surprised as she was. "They're not going to find him there," Tauriel stated.

They all climbed out of the barge too, and for a few seconds they just stood there by the water's edge. By this point the sun had risen enough for Marie to see the chaos: the misery and terror in the eyes of the people, the wooden pieces of wreckage that were still burning, the relief of those who managed to find their loved ones and the sorrow of those that hadn't...

"Where's the Lady?!" she heard someone cry.

"The Lady!" someone else agreed. "We need the Lady!" Soon the cry was taken up by the rest of the survivors, and they were all looking around, as if the Lady would come out of thin air and take charge.

Marie froze, her blood turning cold, half expecting everyone to turn to her. But they barely took notice of her, and she let out a sigh of relief.

Guilt suddenly tugged at her stomach. She had become the Lady because she had wanted to give to those in need, but now _,_ when _everyone_ was in need, she was too shaken to be anything like the Lady. She had helped them in small ways over the course of the last two years, but now, when it really counted, there was nothing she could do.

They needed someone who they could depend on, someone they could follow. They needed someone brave, someone who could get them through this. Not like her uncle, wherever he was, who was too selfish to think of anyone else: not like her, too scared to even consider the next few hours, much less the next few days, or months even: not even like the Lady, always hiding in the shadows instead of showing her face. No, someone like...

Someone like Bard.

Instantly, she turned back to the barge. "What are you doing?!" Kili exclaimed.

Marie climbed in, careful not to tip the boat over. "I'm going back," she said.

Bofur blinked. "Going back?" he repeated. "Lass, you're insane!"

She turned to him, her gaze sharp. "We need Bard," she told him. She pointed to Sigrid and Tilda, who were by now in the midst of the crowd, still searching for their father. " _They_ need Bard. And since nobody else seems to be going back for him, I will."

Tauriel frowned. "We don't even know if he's still alive," she pointed out.

Marie squared her shoulders in determination. "That's a chance I'm willing to take," she replied. She turned to the Dwarves. "If you want to go to the Mountain to meet up with your kin you should take one of the boats here. Nobody's going to need them anymore."

Fili nodded. "Thank you," he said. "For everything." Marie nodded back.

Tauriel held out the pole that she had been using to steer the barge. "Best of luck, then," she told her.

Marie took the pole. "Thank you," she replied. She pushed off from the shore, and within a few seconds she was making her way back towards the ruins of Laketown.

It was only when the figures on the banks were mere blurs that she wondered what exactly had possessed her to go back towards the dead dragon.

000

In a few minutes Marie was amidst the ruins of Laketown, close to the bell tower in which she had last seen Bard. The top half of the tower was completely destroyed, and it seemed to her that it had been knocked down by a swipe of Smaug's tail. Her stomach dropped at the sight; Bard had been on the top of the tower, and if it had been reduced to splinters, what state was he in?

"Bard!" Marie called. "Are you there?!"

Silence.

"Bard?" she attempted again.

"Marie! Over here!" someone shouted.

She whirled around towards the voice, and she instantly recognized Bain standing on a large piece of wreckage from the bell tower, propped up against the dock. "Bain!" she cried. She pushed the barge over to him and hurried up onto the dock, pulling him into a hug. "Don't run off like that again! Are you alright?!"

Bain hugged her back tightly. "I'm fine," he told her.

Marie pulled back and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Bain, where's your father?" she asked.

"Right here."

She turned to see Bard approaching from behind some more wreckage, and instantly a smile of relief spread across her face. "I was beginning to think that you hadn't made it," she told him.

Bard smiled back. "I hate to disappoint you, but here I am," he replied. But the smile slid off of his face, and he was suddenly serious. "Did you get out alright? Are Sigrid and Tilda safe?"

Marie nodded. "I'm fine," she said. "And your daughters are with the rest of the town, on the shore. They're fine." Then she noticed that there was a cut on his cheek, and her eyes widened. "What happened?! Are you hurt?!"

He shook his head. "It's nothing," he replied. "Bain and I fell when Smaug knocked over the tower." Marie was about to ask the obvious question, but Bard cut her off. "I'll explain on the way back. We should get going."

They all climbed back onto the barge, and Marie gave Bard the poll. He expertly steered it away from the tower, and soon they were drifting down the channel, back towards the shore.

Bain immediately launched into a dramatic narrative about how Bard had killed the dragon, describing in detail every moment of the fight on the top of the bell tower. Marie listened with a small smile on her face, amused by the child's enthusiasm. He was a good kid; despite Bard's doubts, he had raised him well.

And Marie also had to admit that as well as being a good father, Bard was also impressive as an archer. She didn't know the first thing about how to shoot a bow, but she knew that it was quite a feat to kill a dragon with nothing but a Black Arrow, a broken bow, and Bain's shoulder.

As if he sensed that her thoughts had shifted to him, the Bowman glanced over to her. "If you want to get anything of yours from your house before we leave, now would be the time to do it," he told her.

Marie thought back to her room in the Master's mansion, but nothing that she had there was of any value to her. "Let's get back to the others," she replied. Bard nodded and continued on, down the channel.

It was a second after they had cleared the ruins of the town that Marie remembered her cloak, the one that she had made herself when she had decided to become the Lady. It had been with her through every night that she had spent out in the town, through all the ups and downs and everything in between. By now it was almost as much a part of the Lady as she was.

But it was still in her room, hidden beneath the floorboards. She hadn't had a chance to retrieve it before Smaug had attacked, and now it was too late to tell Bard to go back.

She turned around to see the remains of Laketown behind them, getting smaller and smaller as they headed to shore. When she had first arrived here three years ago, she hadn't imagined that things would turn out like this, that the entire town would be forced to flee because of the wrath of a dragon. But then, she also hadn't known that she would become the Lady.

Her life had changed when she had first stepped foot in Laketown, and now as she left it for the last time she felt her life changing again. For better or worse, she didn't know.

000

Meanwhile, a drenched Alfrid surfaced by the banks of the Lake, gasping and sputtering for breath. "Will somebody help me?!" he yelled to the sky. "HELP!" He had been swimming ever since the Master had pushed him out of the boat, and even though it had turned out to be a good thing because the boat had ended up getting crushed by the dragon, Alfrid didn't feel too grateful at the moment.

He stumbled over a dead body in his path. Irritably, he pushed it out of the way, only to realize that it was still alive. Alfrid hesitated, staring at the body speculatively, then he shrugged and rolled him back over.

"HELP!" he shouted again.

Meanwhile, the other survivors had started salvaging supplies from the wreckage, and Sigrid, Tilda, and Tauriel were walking amongst them. "Da!" Sigrid called.

"Da!" Tilda added.

"DA!" Sigrid repeated.

Alfrid fell to his knees on the ground. "WHY ME?!" he cried.

The people were still screaming and crying as they pulled the bodies of their loved ones onto the shore from the water. In the middle of the chaos, the Dwarves took one of the boats off to the shore, unnoticed by anyone.

Meanwhile, a woman hurried about, handing out blankets to some of the survivors. "These are dry," she said. "You need them."

The man nodded and accepted the blanket gratefully. "Thank you," he replied.

Instantly, Alfrid was pushing through people towards the woman, who was still holding more blankets. "Oi!" he shouted. "Give me one of them! I'll catch my death in this cold!"

But the woman just glared at him. "Oh, find your own!" she snapped. "You're not in charge now, Alfrid Blackspell!"

Alfrid's eyes narrowed. " _That_ is where you are wrong," he told her. "In absence of the Master, the power cedes to his deputy, which in this instance is my good self. Now give me that blanket!"

He lunged forward and grabbed at one of the blankets, but the woman stubbornly tugged back on the other end. Soon they were viciously yanking on the opposite ends of the blanket, each refusing to let go.

"Master's deputy?" the woman repeated mockingly. "Don't make me laugh." She pulled back suddenly, yanking the blanket away from him. "You're a sneak-thief, more like!" she accused. "I'll be dead, before I answer to the likes of you!" With that, she hit him with the blanket, then turned and began to walk away.

Alfrid sneered at her back angrily. "Maybe that can be arranged!" he exclaimed. He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her around. She let out a shout of protest, and he raised a hand to strike her.

But then someone else reached out and grabbed his upraised arm. Alfrid whirled around to see none other than Bard standing there.

"I wouldn't go turning on your own, Alfrid," he told him. "Not now."

With that, he spun Alfrid around, and the former deputy tripped over someone's foot. He stumbled but caught himself, and he glanced up to see Bain smirking at him, with Marie standing slightly behind him.

"DA!"

Everyone turned to see Sigrid and Tilda running up to them. Instantly, a smile split Bard's face. "Come here!" he exclaimed. They smothered him in a hug, and Bard clutched them closer to him. "It's alright," he soothed.

Sigrid glanced over to Marie, and without warning, she pulled her into the hug as well. "You brought him back to us," she said. "Thank you."

Suddenly a man stepped out of the crowd. Marie recognized him as Percy, the person who used to check the papers of the boats entering the town. "It was Bard!" he declared. "I saw it with my own eyes. He brought the beast down. He shot him dead, with a Black Arrow!"

There was a moment of silence as they all digested that, but then the crowd erupted into a giant cheer. "You saved us all!" someone exclaimed.

"Thank you!" another one added.

Alfrid suddenly appeared by Bard's side and raised his arm, cheering loudly. "ALL HAIL- TO THE DRAGONSLAYER!" he cried. "ALL HAIL- KING BARD!"

But suddenly the others all fell silent, and Bard angrily yanked his hand away from Alfrid's. "I have said it many times," Alfrid continued. "This is a man of noble stock- a born leader!"

Bard glared at Alfrid. "Do not call me that!" he snapped. "I'm not the master of this town." He turned his gaze out to the crowd, looking around. "WHERE IS HE?!" he demanded. "WHERE IS THE MASTER?!"

The woman from the blanket fight scoffed. "Halfway down the Anduin with all our coin, I don't doubt," she grumbled. She nodded to Marie. "No offense, Marie."

Marie shook her head. "None taken," she replied. "I agree."

The woman gave her a smile, but then turned to glare at Alfrid. "But you would know where he is!" she accused. "You helped him empty the treasury!"

Alfrid's eyes widened. "No," he said. "No, I tried to stop him."

He turned to look at the people. "I tried to stop him," he told them. "I pleaded. I pleaded! I said, 'Master, NO!'"

The people started yelling angrily, and Alfrid hid behind Bard. "Think of the children," he continued. He grabbed Tilda and held her in front of him. "Will nobody think of the children?!" But Tilda merely stomped on Alfrid's foot, and Alfrid let out a shout and let her go.

"To the tree with you!" someone yelled.

Instantly, several men grabbed Alfrid, preparing to hang him with a rope. "The niece too!" another shouted. "She's just as much a part of this as he was!"

Marie's eyes widened. "No, wait-" she started.

"She hasn't done nothing but be kind to us since she first got here!" the woman protested.

But they had already grabbed Marie and were beginning to lift her up towards Alfrid. "Let me go!" she cried. Over the yells of the men holding her, she heard some others shouting in protest, but nobody paid them any attention.

"Enough!" Bard finally shouted. "Let her go! Let them both go!"

Everyone fell silent, and they dropped Marie and Alfrid to the ground. Instantly, Bard was by Marie's side, helping her to her feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'll be fine," she replied, shaken.

Bard gave her a concerned look, but nodded and turned to the others. "Look around you!" he exclaimed. "Have you not had your fill of death?"

Alfrid popped up next to Marie. "Aye!" he agreed.

Without missing a beat, Bard pushed him back down. "Winter is upon us," he continued. "We must look to our own, to the sick and the helpless. Those who can stand, tend to the wounded. And those who have strength left- follow me. We must salvage what we can."

Everyone shared a look. "What then?" the woman asked. "What do we do then."

Bard didn't hesitate. "We find shelter," he answered.

He started heading away towards the wreckage, and the townspeople followed him. Marie reached out and placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "You've already decided where we're going," she stated, quietly enough that nobody else could hear them.

It seemed for a second that he was going to deny it, but he nodded. "Dale," he told her.

Marie was silent for a bit as she considered that, but then she nodded. "Of course," she agreed. For a second, neither of them spoke, but then Marie gestured to the wounded. "I should go help out over there. I know a bit of simple medicine."

Bard nodded. "Do your best," he said. "Try to have them on their feet in an hour- I hope to leave by then." She nodded and turned to go.

"Marie!"

She turned around at the sound of her name to see Bard standing there, a small smile on his face. "Thank you for coming back for me," he told her.

Marie smiled back. "It was nothing," she replied. They nodded to each other and then parted ways, Bard to the scavengers and Marie to the healers.

And the Lonely Mountain stood tall over them all, casting a dark shadow over the shores of the Lake.


	8. Off to Dale

Marie's mother had been a healer, so during her childhood Marie had picked up on a bit of simple remedies. But nothing that she had learned could have possibly prepared her for this.

In the last few minutes she had bound a handful of minor gashes, set broken bones, and soothed minor burns. The man in front of her now was a completely different story; his hands were completely burnt, the skin blackened and blistered to the point that she was almost certain that there was nerve damage. "Please," he begged. "Help me."

Marie froze up for a second, not sure what to do. But then a solution came to her, and she was moving, her previous hesitation barely noticeable. "Sigrid, do you know what athelas look like?" she demanded. "Kingsfoil?"

Sigrid, who had been standing behind Marie, nodded. "Tauriel used them," she said.

Marie guided the man over to a nearby log and sat him down. "Go find some," she ordered. Sigrid hurried off without another word. "Tilda." The little girl looked up from where she had been playing in the grass. "Tilda, do you see that pot of boiling water there, in the center of the camp? Can you get me a bowl of it? Be careful not to spill any."

Tilda beamed, glad to have been given a chance to do something. "I will!" she promised. She skipped off towards the pot, dodging the other Laketowners, all of whom were scavenging the ruins for things they could salvage.

Once she was certain that Tilda knew where she was going, Marie turned back to the man and examined his hands. They were worse than she had thought at first glance, but she didn't shy away. "What happened to you?" she asked him.

The man shivered, more from his injuries than the cold, and Marie wrapped a nearby blanket around him. "There was a little boy," he told her shakily. "A child. He was trapped in a burning building. I got him out."

Marie looked up at him. "Is he alright?" she wanted to know.

He nodded. "I found his family," he said.

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You did good," she reassured him. She gave him a small smile. "Don't worry. We'll fix up your hands in no time."

As if on cue, Sigrid hurried up to them, holding a handful of athelas. "Here," she said. "There's more if this isn't enough."

Marie nodded and took them from her just as Tilda came up to them, holding a bowl of boiling water. "Thank you both," Marie told them. "Tilda, hold the bowl please." Tilda did as she said, and Marie started ripping up the athelas into the bowl. "Sigrid, some cloth." Sigrid grabbed some bandages from the nearby pile of clean cloth and passed it to Marie, who soaked it in the water. She took it out after a few seconds and expertly wrapped them around the man's hands.

The tense knot of pain that had been in the man's shoulders suddenly relaxed, and he looked up at her in disbelief. "I barely feel the pain anymore," he said.

Marie smiled at him. "Good," she replied. "Just keep them wrapped and they'll heal eventually." She stood, and he did too. "Go rest now."

He nodded to her. "Thank you," he said. He turned to go, but then changed his mind and looked back at her. "I saw how they tried to hang you back there just a few minutes ago. They were wrong to do that. You're a nice girl." Before she had a chance to reply, he headed off, leaving her standing there with Sigrid and Tilda.

"What is that? I feel better just smelling it."

Marie turned to see the woman from the blanket fight standing there, eying the bowl with the athelas curiously. Some of the other healers were gathered around too, the same question on their faces too. "Athelas," she answered.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what we feed the pigs?" she asked.

Marie nodded. "It is," she agreed. "But it has healing properties too."

Another woman leaned closer and looked at the bowl of athelas warily. "That's magic, that is," she stated. "Some Elvish trickery. I ain't usin' it."

But the other woman shot her a look. "Well, I don't see a problem with it," she snapped. "It works, doesn't it?" Everyone else murmured in agreement, and she turned to Marie. "Can you teach us how to brew this?"

Marie nodded, a little taken aback by the directness of the question. "Of course," she answered.

The woman smiled at her. "Thank you," she said. "I'm Grotha, by the way."

"I'm Marie."

Soon the shores of the Lake were filled with the sweet smell of athelas as the healers treated the rest of the wounded. In about half an hour their work was done.

Marie let out a sigh of relief as she slumped down on a nearby log, exhausted. Grotha, who had been working beside her the entire time, joined her. "Take that!" she declared. "Done with half an hour to spare!"

But before Marie could reply, she saw someone walking in their direction out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a tall man with long, blond hair, clad in green and walking with a graceful stride. It seemed to her that he was an Elf, most likely from the forest kingdom of Mirkwood.

He walked up to them and looked down at where they were sitting on the log. "Have either of you seen Tauriel?" he asked. "I was with her a few moments ago but I don't know where she went."

Marie stood so that she could face him better. "She escaped the town with me," she answered. "I haven't seen her after that. Why?"

The Elf glanced around at the refugees, but Tauriel was nowhere to be seen. "Did she brew the athelas?" he wanted to know.

She shook her head. "I did," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow speculatively. "And what does a woman of Laketown know about kingsfoil?" he replied.

Marie's chin jutted up in defiance. "My mother learned from an Elf," she said. "Who wants to know?"

The Elf was silent for a second, but then he nodded. "Legolas," he answered. Marie instantly recognized the name of the prince of Mirkwood. "And what should I call you?"

She nodded back. "Marie," she told him.

Legolas glanced around again. "Are you in charge here?" he asked.

Marie shook her head. "That would be Bard," she replied. "I'll take you to him." She turned to Grotha, who was still sitting on the log. "Stay here."

Grotha nodded. "I was planning on it," she said dryly. Marie turned to go, but Grotha reached out and grabbed her arm. "You did good here today, Marie; people trust you now. Remember that." Marie nodded, then headed off with Legolas to find Bard. Grotha's words still echoed in her ear.

 _People trust you now._

It only took a few minutes to find Bard amongst the scavengers, knee-deep in the water and looking through the wreckage for anything useful. "Bard!" Marie called.

The Bowman looked up at the sound of his name, and when he saw her there a smile split his face. He climbed out of the water and walked up to them. "Marie," he greeted. He gestured to Legolas. "Who's this?"

Legolas held out his hand. "Legolas," he told him.

Bard shook the offered hand. "The prince of Mirkwood," he said. "I've heard of you. What brings you here?"

The Elf looked off towards the north briefly, his gaze seeming troubled, but then he turned his attention back to both of them. "I was passing by," he answered. "I was going to offer aid, but now that I see that you have a qualified healer here, it seems to me that you'll be fine."

Bard raised an eyebrow. "Qualified healer?" he repeated.

Legolas gestured to Marie. "She knows how to use athelas just as well as any Elf I've met," he explained. "Just the smell of it alone has probably cured you all of weariness."

They both turned to look at Marie, who shrugged modestly. "It was nothing," she said. "Just something my mother taught me."

Bard clasped Marie on the shoulder. "It's helped a great deal," he told her. "Thank you. When will the healers be done? I'd like to leave earlier than in half an hour, if possible."

Marie shook her head. "We've finished already," she reported. "We're ready to leave when you are."

He stared at her in surprise for a second, but then he gave her a small smile. "Good work," he praised. He turned to the rest of the Laketowners. "Everyone, prepare to leave in a few minutes! Take only what you need; we have a long march ahead!"

Instantly everyone started murmuring amongst themselves, but they started packing supplies and getting ready to leave. Legolas watched the proceedings with a curious expression. "Where will you go?" he asked.

Bard turned his gaze across the Lake, to the Lonely Mountain. "There is only one place," he answered.

"The mountain!"

All three of them turned to see that Alfrid had somehow approached them without anybody noticing. It seemed like Bard was about to say something, but Alfrid continued talking. "You are a genius, sire," he told him, oblivious to the looks on their faces. "We can take refuge inside the mountain! It might smell a bit of dragon, but the women can clean up." Marie sputtered angrily. "It will be safe and warm and dry, and full of stores, bedding, clothing..." A strange glint suddenly came to his eyes. "The odd bit of gold..."

Bard gave him a sharp look. "What gold is in that mountain is cursed," he snapped. "We will take only what was promised to us- only what we need to rebuild our lives." He dumped a nearby bundle of sticks into Alfrid's hands and walked off, followed by Legolas.

Marie was about to follow them when she saw Alfrid shove the sticks at an old woman who already had a large bundle in her hands. "Here- pull your weight!" he snapped, then walked off.

Instantly Marie hurried over and took some of the sticks from her. "Here," she said. "I'm sorry about him."

The woman gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you," she replied. "You're a good lass."

"Marie!"

She glanced over to see that Bard and Legolas had stopped walking and were waiting for her. She smiled back at the woman then hurried off to catch up with them.

Bard raised an eyebrow as she neared. "What was that about?" he asked.

Marie shook her head, even though she had a feeling that he had seen what had gone on between her, Alfrid, and the old woman. "Nothing," she answered. "I'm fine."

Suddenly the sticks began to slide out of her grip, and Bard took some of the pile before they could fall to the ground. "I'll take some," he told her.

She shook her head. "I can handle it," she protested.

He grinned at her. "I have no doubt that you can," he replied. "But I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you carry it all yourself, would I?"

Suddenly, before Marie could reply, there was the sound of screeching from the skies, and the three of them glanced up to see that a flock of ravens flying overhead, over the ruins of the Lake and towards the mountain. Legolas frowned. "News of the death of Smaug will have spread through the lands," he told them.

Bard nodded, any traces of his earlier amusement gone from his face. "Aye," he agreed grimly.

The Elf turned back to look at them. "Others will now look to the mountain- for its wealth, or its position," he cautioned.

Bard raised an eyebrow. "What is it you know?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head as he glanced off into the distance, towards the north again. "Nothing for certain," he answered cryptically. "It's what I fear may come."

Marie frowned. "Should we be worried?" she wanted to know.

Legolas looked down at her, his face dead serious. "In your position?" he said. "I would always be worried."

For a few seconds, nobody said anything, but then Legolas shook his head to clear it. "I have urgent business I need to attend to," he told them. "I should be going." He nodded to Bard. "I wish you luck in your journey to the mountain."

Bard nodded back. "Good luck to you as well, wherever you're going," he replied.

Marie turned to Legolas. "Are you still looking for Tauriel?" she asked. He nodded. "I'll help you find her."

Legolas gave her a small smile. "That would be appreciated," he told her.

Bard nodded. "Just remember, we leave in ten minutes," he reminded her.

Marie smiled at him. "I'll be ready," she reassured him. He nodded again, and the two of them headed off.

Neither of them noticed Bard's concerned gaze on them, watching Marie until she and Legolas were swallowed up by the crowd.

"So," Marie commented. "How do you know Tauriel?"

Legolas chuckled at the memory. "My father took her in after her parents were killed," he explained. "We've been friends ever since." He glanced down at her. "How did you meet her?"

She shrugged. "She was helping Bard's children and some Dwarves get out of Laketown," she answered. "I got on the barge with them."

He nodded, suddenly tense. "Dwarves," he repeated. "Was one of them Kili, perhaps?"

Marie looked at him. "Kili was there," she replied. Legolas didn't reply, and in that silence Marie realized something. "I know this might not be my place to ask, but do you... like her?"

Legolas was silent for a second, as if considering the best way to answer that, but then he just chuckled. "I suppose it's obvious, isn't it?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile. "Just a bit," she agreed. "Don't worry, I'll keep your secret."

He laughed. "Thank you," he replied. He looked down at her curiously. "You're an easy person to talk to, Marie. And you're a kind woman. I see why you and Bard get along."

Marie paused as she thought back on all that she and Bard had been through since they had first met just yesterday: running through the town to escape Braga and his guards, getting arrested together, breaking out of the jail cell, making their way out of the ruins of their destroyed town... How was she supposed to put a name to that? She felt closer to him than she did with anybody else, but at the same time she knew almost nothing about him.

No, that wasn't true. She knew that he still missed his wife, who he had first met when she punched him in the eye: that he raised his three children alone and would sacrifice anything for them: that he wasn't afraid of doing the right thing, even if it was against the law: that he was a man of the people, despite the fact that half the time they didn't know it: and, most of all, that once a person proved themselves to him, he would stay by their side through thick and thin. Those were the only things about him that mattered, not anything else that she didn't know.

"We're... friends, I suppose," she decided, not knowing what else to say.

Legolas glanced down at her, a small smile on his face. "We'll see," he replied cryptically.

But before she could reply, he caught sight of something off in the distance. Marie followed the Elf's gaze and was able to make out the faint flash of red hair on the other side of the camp, underneath a grove of trees. "There's Tauriel," he commented. They looked back at each other. "I should get going."

She smiled at him. "Take care, Legolas," she said.

He held out a hand to her, just as he had greeted Bard earlier. "You too, Marie," he told her. She hesitated, then shook the offered hand. "These next few months are going to be hard, especially for Bard as leader. You say that you two are friends; if that's so, you're going to have to stick by him, because he needs companionship now more than ever. He needs you."

Marie nodded. "And I need him," she replied. It was only once the words were out of her mouth that she realized how true they were, how much she already looked to the Dragon-slayer for assurance and stability. "Don't worry. I won't abandon him."

Legolas smiled. "Good," he said. "Until we meet again, Marie of Laketown." With that, the Elf turned and walked off towards Tauriel.

"Until we meet again, Legolas of Mirkwood," Marie whispered.

Almost as soon as he had stepped away, the crowd started murmuring loudly, and Marie turned to see that they had started the trek to Dale with Bard in the lead.

"Marie! Marie, wait up!" She turned around to see Bain hurrying up to her, followed by Sigrid and Tilda. "Do you mind if we walk with you?"

She smiled at them. "Of course not," she said. "Come on, let's go. Stick together now; we don't want to get separated."

The four of them started walking with the rest of the crowd, and Tilda took Marie's hand. "Da would always sing whenever we're walking somewhere," she told her. "Can you sing, Marie?"

Marie laughed. "Not very well," she answered. Tilda frowned, and Marie ruffled up her hair. "But I can try!"

Tilda grinned. "Sing _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!"_ she requested.

Marie smiled. "Alright," she agreed.

 _Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

 _how I wonder what you are._

Tilda started singing along, soon joined by Sigrid and, after a few minutes, even Bain, even though he seemed a bit embarrassed about it. Time passed, and still they sang, occupying themselves as they walked up the slopes of the mountain to the abandoned city of Dale.

 _Up above the world so high,_

 _like a diamond in the sky._

 _Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

 _how I wonder what you are..._


	9. Welcome Home

Marie frowned as she and the others walked down the long-abandoned streets of Dale, passing under the shadows of the ruins. The city had once been great- Marie could tell from the design of the buildings and the workmanship of the streets that wealth had been common in this area. But even though most of the buildings had survived the dragon's attack, by now they were in a state of disrepair. Roofs were caved in and walls had collapsed, and a fine layer of dust seemed to cover everything. Marie caught sight of the charred remains of a body in a small alleyway, and she quickly diverted Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda's attention elsewhere.

She glanced forward in the line of people to where Bard was walking, leading the weary group of refugees through the streets. He had a frown on his face too as he surveyed their surroundings, apparently less than pleased with the condition of the city. But almost as if he sensed her gaze on him, the Dragon-slayer turned his attention from the ruins to look at her and his children beside her.

"Da! Hi, Da!" Tilda exclaimed happily, waving at him.

A smile instantly replaced Bard's frown, and he waved back. Marie watched as he exchanged some words with the man next to him, then turned and walked back to join her and the children. He seemed relaxed when he reached them, any signs of his previous worry gone from his face. Instantly, Tilda ran up to him and gave him a hug. "Da!" she greeted.

He chuckled and ruffled up her hair. "Hi there," he replied. He looked up at Marie, Bain, and Sigrid. "How are you all?"

The three of them shared a look, and Marie shrugged. "Tired, but alright," she answered.

Bard nodded. "Good," he said. He grinned teasingly. "I trust that my children were behaving?"

"Da!" Bain protested.

Marie laughed. "Of course they were," she replied.

"SIRE! Sire! Up here!"

They all turned to see Alfrid standing on one of the city walls, looking frantic. Bard sighed. "I'd better go see what he wants," he said, even though it sounded like he would rather do anything else. "Marie, will you come with me?"

Marie nodded. "Of course," she answered.

Bard patted Bain on the shoulder. "You're in charge, Bain," he told him. "Try to find Grotha and stay with her. She'll keep an eye on you until we finish up."

Bain nodded. "Of course, Da," he agreed.

Sigrid held out a hand to Tilda. "C'mon, Tilda," she said. "Let's let Da work."

Tilda took the offered hand and headed off with Bain and Sigrid. "Bye, Da!" she exclaimed as they walked away. "Bye, Marie!"

Marie and Bard waited until the children were swallowed up by the crowd, then turned to each other. "Well, we'd better go see what Alfrid wants," Marie commented.

Bard nodded. "Aye," he agreed.

They headed off towards Alfrid, weaving their way through the ruined streets towards him. In a minute they had joined him on the city wall. "Look, sire-" Alfrid started, but he cut himself off when he saw Marie there. "What's _she_ doing here?"

Marie opened her mouth to retort, but Bard beat her to it, distaste clear in his eyes. "I asked her here, Alfrid," he replied. "Now what did you want?"

Alfrid glared at Marie, then pointed over the wall. "The braziers are lit," he informed them sourly.

The two of them followed Alfrid's gaze to see the grand gates of Erebor, standing tall and proud, carved in the mountainside with the skill of the Dwarves of old. Just as Alfrid had said, the giant braziers were filled with fire, casting deep, flickering shadows on the abandoned bridge leading up to the doors.

"Only one group of Dwarves would have lit those fires," Marie said.

"The Company of Thorin Oakenshield survived," Bard agreed. His face was expressionless.

Alfrid blanched. "Survived?" he repeated in shock. "You mean there's a whole bunch of Dwarves in there with all that gold?!"

Marie nodded. "They're lucky that they didn't die," she commented.

"B-b-but..." Alfrid stammered.

Bard clapped him on the shoulder with slightly more force than necessary. "You shouldn't worry, Alfrid," he reassured him. "There's gold enough in that mountain for all."

With that, he turned to the other side of the wall and looked out at the Laketowners, who were still making their way through the streets. "Make camp here tonight!" he told them. "Find what shelter you can. Get some fires going." They all nodded and started doing as Bard had ordered, and he turned back to Marie and Alfrid. "Alfrid, you take the night watch."

With a sour look at the both of them, Alfrid turned and stomped off towards the gates to the city. "Well, at least he's not complaining about it," Bard commented.

Marie turned her attention back to Erebor, watching the dancing flames. She had always thought of fire as warmth and shelter, but this particular fire seemed sinister. She shivered, and not from the cold. If the interior of the castle was just as unwelcoming as the gates, it was a wonder how anybody could live there, even Dwarves.

The Dwarves... Besides the braziers, she could see no other sign that the castle was inhabited, causing her to wonder what exactly they were all doing in there, and if Fili and the others had reached them by now.

She glanced over at Bard, who was looking at the castle as well. But unlike her, he was frowning, obviously troubled with this new information. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

Bard sighed. "I'm thinking that this might be harder than we planned for," he answered grimly. He turned to her, his expression resigned. "Welcome to our new home, Marie."

000

Marie was in the middle of passing out cups of water to the townspeople when Alfrid came running up to her.

"Come on, it's urgent," he said as soon as he reached her. Without giving her a chance to respond, he grabbed her arm and started pulling her away.

Just a few days ago she probably would have let herself get dragged away, but that was a few days ago. She had changed since then; something had woken up inside her that she hadn't known was there. So, much to his surprise, and hers, instead of letting Alfrid drag her along, she yanked her arm from his.

Alfrid gave her a startled look, and Marie glared at him. "I can walk by myself, thanks," she told him.

He sneered at her. "Fine," he retorted.

The two of them walked off, out of earshot from the rest of the town, and Alfrid headed into a small alleyway. Marie gave him a suspicious look but followed after him. "What do you want?" she asked.

Alfrid glanced anxiously behind her to make sure that nobody had noticed them leaving, then turned back around to face her. "What do you know about what happened to your uncle?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "Nothing, really," she replied. "Why does this matter?"

He glared at her. "Why does this matter?!" he repeated, sounding offended. "Why does this matter?! Of course it matters!"

Marie raised an eyebrow, not impressed.

Alfrid took a deep breath to calm himself, and he shook his head. "It _matters_ because _I_ know," he told her. "He fled, Marie. He fled with the gold, and he's probably in Gondor by now."

She remembered when she and Bard had broken out of the jail cell last night, and their makeshift rope had caught on her uncle's throat. He had been on a barge filled to the brim with gold, if memory served.

Her heart sunk at the thought. Things had been happening so quickly that night that she had barely had time to process all that she had seen, but now that she was looking back on everything, it was painfully clear that Alfrid and the rest of the townspeople were right; her uncle had fled with the gold... Not that she should have expected anything else.

"Your point?" Marie asked.

Alfrid looked around once again to make sure that nobody was listening, then he leaned closer to her so that he could lower his voice. "We should follow him," he whispered. Marie's eyes widened, and Alfrid reached out and grabbed her wrist to prevent her from pulling away. "Or at the very least leave this place. We don't stand a chance of survival here, Marie, and you know it."

Marie once again yanked her arm from his hand. "We stand a better chance if we join together," she snapped. "As a _community,_ a part of a whole." She shook her head at him, glaring. "This is a time when we should be helping each other and all you want to do is look out for yourself. You're a despicable human being, Alfrid Lickspittle, and I want nothing more to do with you."

With that, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the alleyway, leaving a very dumfounded Alfrid behind.

 _He fled, Marie... He fled with the gold._

000

By the time night had fallen on Dale, the Laketowners had managed to use salvaged bits and pieces to make tents to sleep under, and several large fires were lit at regular intervals to fend off the darkness. For the first time in decades the city was host to a large group of people, and it seemed like it was on its best behavior for the occasion; the sky was clear, the moon was bright, the wind was still, and any animals that had inhabited the city in the absence of humans stayed away from the townspeople as they settled down to sleep under the makeshift tents.

But a lone figure was still awake, sitting alone by one of the fires. After a few moments, most of the Laketowners had stilled as they began to fall asleep, and a second figure joined the first, taking a seat by the fire as well.

Marie didn't need to look up to know that it was Bard who had sat down next to her, but she did anyway. "Shouldn't you be with your children?" she asked.

Bard let out a content sigh as he stretched out next to her. "They're sleeping now," he explained. He turned to look at her. "You should be asleep too. You need your rest."

She shrugged. "I wanted to look at the stars," she answered. There was no way that she could explain how much the night sky meant to her, or how many times she had passed under it as the Lady. "It... it helps me focus, if that makes sense."

He shifted so that he was looking up at the stars as well. "It does," he replied.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, just stared up at the stars above them. But then Marie sighed, breaking the silence. "What do you think happened to my uncle?" she asked.

Bard gave her a look. "Your uncle?" he repeated. She nodded, and he tilted so that his entire body was facing her. "Is this about the rumors? I know that most people are saying that he fled with his gold, but nobody really knows-"

"Alfrid told me that he did," Marie interrupted. "Or at least, that was his plan." She sighed. "He's either in Gondor or dead by now."

It seemed like Bard didn't know what to say to that, or maybe he was still digesting the new information, because he didn't reply right away. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

Marie shook her head. "Don't be," she replied. "I know he's my uncle, but he's a pig." She sighed. "It's not like he's ever done anything for me, but he's my family and I feel lost without him. I don't know what to do."

Bard reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You have friends here: Grotha, Sigrid, Bain, Tilda... me," he reminded her. "You've helped everyone in this town today, and we wouldn't have made it this far without you. We're with you, Marie. You're not alone."

She smiled up at him, his words lifting her spirits. "You would have lasted without me," she told him.

He returned the smile. "I doubt it," he replied. He stood and offered a hand to her. "We should go to bed; we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and we need our rest."

Marie nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet. "Let's go, then," she agreed. The two of them headed back to tents, and the stars shone brightly down upon them.

000

Bard awoke in the middle of the night to a gust of cold wind.

He glanced at his children, the three of them fast asleep by his side. Their faces were blank, uncreased by worry, confident that their father would keep them safe. Bard sighed; if only he could be as sure of himself as they were. In all honesty, he didn't know what he was doing. As he had told Marie just the day before, all he wanted to do was survive and raise his children. Last week that hadn't included singlehandedly settling an entire town into the ruins of an ancient city. This week, it did, and nothing in the past had prepared him for this.

But no, he wasn't doing it singlehandedly. He had people he could depend on. He had Alfrid, whatever help he was. He had Percy, his loyal friend. And, most of all, he had Marie.

The Dragon-slayer glanced at Marie, who was currently sleeping next to him. She was shivering from the cold, her body curled up in a ball in a failed attempt to preserve body heat. Bard instantly felt his pity go out to her; while he and his children were sleeping under one blanket, sharing body warmth, she had nobody to keep her warm during the cold night.

Careful not to wake the children, he stood with the intention of wrapping his arms around Marie, just until she warmed up. But then, looking down at Marie, the full implications of what he was going to do dawned on him, and he hesitated. Not only was it highly inappropriate, considering that they had just met two days ago, but neither of them needed rumors circling about them being together when they clearly weren't.

Of course, those sounded like perfectly reasonable excuses, but if Bard was going to be honest with himself, it was something completely different that was holding him back. It was the fact that the last woman he had slept with was his wife.

He missed her. Eight years later and he was still grieving for her, no matter how much he tried not to show it. Every day without her was empty, like nothing really mattered anymore if she wasn't at his side. But ever since he had met Marie, life seemed to be fuller, more complete, as if he had a purpose now. Of course, there was still a pain in his heart whenever he thought of his wife, but with Marie, it was eased slightly.

Maybe one day he could move past his wife and court another woman, but that day wasn't today, or any day soon. Today, he was contented with taking off his sturdy coat, still warm from his body heat, and laying it over Marie like a blanket. Her shivering ceased, and she seemed at ease now.

Satisfied, Bard laid back down next to his children and wrapped an arm around them, grateful that they were here.

000

When Marie awoke the next morning, she was surprised to see Bard's coat draped over her.

She sat up and looked over at Bard and his children, all four of them still sleeping. Sure enough, he wasn't wearing his jacket. He must have gotten up in the middle of the night and given it to her.

Touched, Marie stood and folded up the jacket, which smelled distinctly like Bard: a mixture of fish and wood. She placed it on the ground next to where he was sleeping, then headed off towards the river to wash up.

The few Laketowners who were awake at this early hour were already there, splashing themselves in the face with the cold water. Marie saw Grotha there, kneeling over the water and washing her hair, and she decided to join the older woman.

Grotha looked up as Marie kneeled down by the river next to her and splashed some water on her face. "Good morning," she greeted. She grinned suggestively at her. "Even though it is better for some than others, I'd suppose."

Marie gave her a small smile. "What do you mean, Grotha?" she asked.

The older woman's smile just broadened. "We all saw you with Bard's coat over you this morning," she answered.

Marie instantly turned red. "It's not like that," she said quickly. "I don't even know how it got there." Grotha raised an eyebrow, obviously not convinced. "I'm serious!"

Grotha laughed as both women finished up their washing and headed back to the main camp, where some others had woken up by now. "We've all seen how close you two are becoming, Marie," she told her quietly.

Marie shook her head. "We're just friends," she insisted. So this was what it was like to have girl talk...

Grotha gave her a look. "How many friends would he trust the way that he trusts you?" she pointed out.

Before Marie could reply, they reached the camp, and her eyes were instantly drawn to Bard, who seemed to have just risen. He was wearing his coat as if he had never taken it off, and when his eyes met hers, he smiled and waved her over. Grotha nudged her. "See?" she said. She grinned at her. "Go make your move, girl! Soon you'll be the Queen of Dale!"

"Wait, Queen of-" Marie started in confusion, but Grotha had already pushed her towards Bard, causing her to fall off balance.

The Dragon-slayer caught her before she fell, and he smiled down at her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Marie nodded. "I'm fine," she replied. "Thank you."

The two of them suddenly realized how close they were standing to each other, and Bard let her go. "Anyway, er, I wanted to ask if you would be willing to come with me to check on the townspeople," he offered. "You don't have to. I would just... like some company."

She smiled at him. "Of course I'll come," she agreed.

Even as she said the words, she could see Grotha watching them with a knowing eye.

Soon they were walking in the midst of the townspeople, most of whom were awake by now. Everyone was gathered around the fires, trying to keep warm. Some were tending to the wounds of the injured, and Marie could hear infants crying off in the distance. She shuddered, never having seen this much misery before.

"These children are starving!" one man exclaimed. "We need food!"

Marie placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're doing our best," she said. "You'll just have to hang on for a little while longer." The man nodded, and Marie turned to Bard. "We should organize hunting parties. There must be some game nearby."

Bard nodded his agreement. "Good idea," he agreed.

"We won't last three days!" another man added.

Marie shook her head. "We will," she told him. "We're going to make it through this, don't worry. We just need to work together."

Out of the corner of her eyes, Marie saw the Gatekeeper of Laketown approach. "Bard, we don't have enough," he said.

Bard clasped him on the shoulder. "Do what you can, Percy," he instructed.

"We need more water!" a woman exclaimed.

He nodded. "The children, the wounded, and the women come first," he ordered.

If she were the Lady, and they were back in Laketown, Marie would have been able to help these people. But they were in Dale now, where there were no supplies for her to steal, and her cloak was gone, left in the ruins of Laketown. There was nothing she could do, and it hurt.

But no; even though there was no food for her to give them, no water, she could do something for them. She was doing it now; easing their fears, comforting them in a time when they desperately needed soothing words. In the end she was still doing her best to help the people of Laketown whom she had learned to love so well.

They cleared the mass of people, and Bard let out a shuddering breath. "Are you alright?" Marie asked quietly.

He nodded. "I'll be fine," he reassured her. He glanced back at the people. "It's just... I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like whatever choice I'm going to make is doomed to failure." He shook his head. "I shouldn't be leading these people."

Marie remembered then what Legolas had told her yesterday, by the banks of the Lake: _These next few months are going to be hard, especially for Bard as leader. You say that you two are friends; if that's so, you're going to have to stick by him, because he needs companionship now more than ever. He needs you._ She hadn't understood what he had meant then, but she did now; Bard, despite his seemingly-endless confidence, was scared.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze. After a moment's hesitation, he placed his hand on hers. "Bard, you're the best out of all of us for this job," she told him. "Never doubt that."

He scoffed. "Why, because I slayed the dragon?" he asked speculatively.

Marie shook her head. "No, not because you slayed the dragon, but because of the reasons that you did it," she said. She smiled at him reassuringly. "It's because you're a man of the people, Bard."

By that point they had reached the gates of the city, and Bard gave her a small smile; Marie noted that now there was a spark of light in his eyes. "Thank you," he told her. He glanced around. "Shouldn't Alfrid be here?"

She glanced around and saw a black-clothed elbow sticking out from behind the stone. "There," she said.

The two of them approached. "Morning, Alfrid," Bard greeted. "What news from the night watch?"

Alfrid flinched and turned around to face them, his eyes bleary from sleep. "All quiet, sire, I must report," he told them drowsily. Marie and Bard shared an amused glance, well aware that he had been sleeping just moments ago. "Nothing gets past me."

Bard walked through the archway in the gates, followed by Marie and then Alfrid. Without warning, he froze, causing Marie and Alfrid to stumble to a stop behind him.

Marie glanced around him to see what he was staring at, and her eyes widened at the sight. The courtyard in front of them was filled with Elves from Mirkwood, dressed in their golden battle gear and standing in perfectly ordered lines.

"Except an army of Elves, it would seem," Bard remarked dryly.


	10. The Coming of Elves and War

Marie wasn't sure how, but the people of Laketown soon became aware of the Elves in front of the gates of the city. Within a few moments they had all gathered around, everyone staring in surprise and wonder at the silent army standing in straight, perfect lines. People started murmuring, some of them sounding awed and some wary. Marie, Bard, and Alfrid remained where they were standing on the steps of the city, looking out at the endless rows of Elves with suspicion.

"Bard..." Marie muttered.

He nodded. "I know," he agreed grimly. With that, he stepped forward and approached the Elves. Immediately, the front rows of the army turned and stepped back, moving completely in sync. With barely a sound, they had made a pathway for the Dragon-slayer.

Bard froze and eyed them warily, but then walked through the pathway. As soon as he cleared the last row of Elves, he heard the sound of hooves on stone, and then King Thranduil rode up on his elk. The Elves, once again completely in sync, turned to face their king.

"My lord Thranduil," Bard greeted, sounding taken aback. "We did not look to see you here." Marie, from where she was standing with the rest of the townspeople, frowned as she looked on at the Elvenking. She could see the resemblance to Legolas, mostly in their long, blond hair, but for the most part they were nothing alike. While Legolas had been kind to her in the few minutes that she had spoken with him, she could see none of that compassion in Thranduil.

Indeed, the Elvenking looked down at Bard from where he was seated atop his elk, his face haughty. "I heard you needed aid," he replied.

He turned and looked back the way he had come, and the gazes of everyone else followed his. It was then that they saw an Elvish cart pulling up, filled high with food and drink. The Laketowners started cheering, and they all rushed up to the cart to start unloading the food; Marie hurriedly stepped to the side to avoid the stampede of people.

Bard, meanwhile, looked up at Thranduil, more grateful than surprised now. "You have saved us!" he exclaimed. "I do not know how to thank you!"

But Thranduil's cold expression didn't change, unless it became even more removed. "Your gratitude is misplaced," he replied. "I did not come on your behalf. There are gems in the mountain that I desire." With that, he turned his elk and started walking away. "March on! We will not rest until we reach the Mountain!"

 _We will not rest until we reach the Mountain..._

It was then that Bard realized what Thranduil was actually here for. He wasn't here to help them; no, he was here to start a war with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

"Wait-" Bard started, taking off after the king.

"Bard!"

He turned around to see Marie hurrying up to him, and with her, a reminder that his responsibilities were with his people, not with a small company of Dwarves. Whatever quarrel that Thranduil had with Thorin, it didn't involve him.

But how could he stand by and watch as a battle broke out on his very doorstep?

Marie reached the Dragon-slayer. "I have people bringing the food to the old storehouses," she told him. "Percy and some other people are in charge of getting everyone their breakfast." She smiled at him happily. "If we ration it right, we'll be able to make it last for quite a few days. We should have some sort of system set up by the time it runs out, if nothing unexpected happens." She suddenly noticed the troubled expression on his face, and she frowned. "Are you alright?"

Bard hesitated. "Aye," he answered. "Don't worry about me." Marie raised an eyebrow, not convinced, and Bard sighed. "Thranduil means to start a war with the Dwarves."

Her eyes widened. "But there's thirteen of them!" she exclaimed.

He grimaced. "I know," he agreed.

She glanced out at the rows of marching Elves. While before they had seemed like solid, dependable figures, now they seemed cold and menacing. "What does that mean for us?" she asked.

Bard sighed. "I know that we shouldn't get involved," he said. "It doesn't involve us. But..."

Marie was silent for a second, but then she placed a hand on his arm. "Do what your heart thinks is right," she told him.

They looked into each other's eyes, his brown against her green, and then he placed his own hand on top of hers. "I will," he agreed. Without another word, he turned and hurried after Thranduil.

000

"Wait! Please, wait!"

The Elvenking turned to see Bard running up to him, his expression frantic. "You would go to war over a handful of gems?!" he demanded.

Thranduil glared at him. "The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken," he replied.

Bard glanced out at the grand gates of Erebor, silently weighing his options. Then he turned back to Thranduil. "We are allies in this," he told him. "My people also have a claim upon the riches in that mountain! Let me speak with Thorin!"

The Elvenking raised an eyebrow. "You would try to reason with a Dwarf?" he asked dubiously.

"To avoid war?" Bard replied. "Yes!"

000

Within a few minutes Bard was leading a white stallion through the streets of Dale, heading towards the gates of the city. Marie walked beside him, both of them deep in thought.

They stopped before the gates, and they both glanced out at the looming doors of Erebor. "Well, this is it," Marie commented.

Bard nodded. "This is it," he agreed. "The fate of three kingdoms depends on this."

Neither of them spoke for a second, the significance of the moment weighing down on them, but then Marie smiled at him. "Good luck," she said.

He smiled back at her, then mounted the horse with ease. "I'll need it," he agreed. He looked down at her. "Keep an eye on things here for me, will you?"

Marie raised an eyebrow, startled. "Me?" she asked.

Bard nodded. "You," he agreed. He smiled. "You might not have noticed it, Marie, but you have a knack for helping people when they need it the most."

Neither of them spoke for a second, but then Marie nodded. "I'll help the Elves settle in," she told him. She glanced back at the city, then turned back to him. "Be careful out there."

He nodded. "I will," he reassured her.

She forced a smile, trying not to let him see her worries. "Good luck," she said.

He smiled back. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he replied.

Marie raised an eyebrow, needing some form of reassurance. "Do you give me your word?" she asked.

He nodded. "I do," he answered. "Don't worry." Then, without another word, he took off towards the gates of Erebor.

000

"Hello."

Thranduil turned his attention from his troops, looking up at Marie, who had approached him and was now standing next to him. He raised an eyebrow, apparently not impressed. "Yes?" he asked.

She held out a hand, trying not to act as nervous as she felt. "I'm Marie," she told him. "Bard left me in charge while he's gone. Do you need any help here?"

Despite her friendly words, Thranduil ignored her outstretched hand. "No," he replied curtly.

Neither of them said anything for a second, but then Marie forced a polite smile. The cold gaze of the Elvenking made her feel uneasy, as if she were constantly being judged, and every instinct of hers told her to abandon this conversation and walk away. But Bard was depending on her to settle things with the Elves, so that was what she would do.

"The polite thing to do is to shake my hand," she said.

Thranduil looked down at her hand, then back up at her. Their eyes met, neither willing to back down; but apparently the Elvenking saw something in her gaze, because he nodded and shook her hand.

Marie nodded to him. "Thank you," she replied. She glanced at the lines upon lines of Elves who were now taking positions along the city walls facing Erebor, their bows in their hands and quivers strapped to their backs. "Is all of this necessary? There's only thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit in that mountain."

The Elvenking looked down at her haughtily. "One thing I've learned during my many years is to never underestimate Dwarves," he told her. He looked out across the plains at Erebor, his expression cold. "You can never know what trickery they have planned in those twisted minds of theirs."

She had a feeling that she shouldn't mention Tauriel and Kili.

"Of course," she agreed politely. "Well, I'll leave you to discuss military things with Bard when he returns, but we should settle living arrangements for you and your troops."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Living arrangements?" he repeated.

Marie nodded. "Well, we don't know how long you'll be staying here," she pointed out. "I'm assuming you'll also need to have a command tent?"

He scoffed. "I doubt that we will be here long enough to require a place to sleep," he replied.

She shrugged. "Never underestimate the Dwarves, remember?" she said, throwing his own words back at him.

Thranduil was silent for a moment as he considered that, but then he nodded. "Of course," he agreed. She could have sworn that he actually seemed amused. "Where would you have us sleep?"

Marie gestured towards the main street. "Last night we slept on the streets, but we're working on cleaning some of the buildings along the main street to sleep in," she told him. "If your people could help, the process would go much faster."

He nodded. "Of course," he replied. He called out to a passing Elf in his own language, and after issuing orders that Marie couldn't understand, the soldier headed off with a handful of others towards the buildings along the main street.

"Thank you," Marie said. "And as for a command tent, we have a space cleared in the middle of the town square. Would that do?"

Thranduil glanced over to the town square. "Perfectly," he told her. "I'll have that seen to." He looked down at her. "Is that all?"

Marie nodded. "For now," she replied. "We'll wait for Bard to return until we make any more plans."

Both of them glanced out at Erebor, where they could see Bard's white horse in front of the grand castle. Then Thranduil turned his gaze back to her, his eyes surprisingly warm. "Bard made the right choice of queen," he said.

She blinked in surprise, taking a second to process that, but then shook her head quickly. "You're mistaken," she replied. "Bard will probably be king once this is over- he already is king in all but name- but I wouldn't be queen."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked. "I beg to differ."

With that, he walked away, leaving a speechless Marie standing there.

Percy, who had been watching the conversation from a few yards away, walked up to Marie, eyeing Thranduil warily. "How did it go?" he asked quietly. "He seemed scary."

Marie shook herself out of her daze and turned to Percy. "He'll help us clear the buildings," she told him.

Percy's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he replied. "How did you manage that?" She shrugged, and Percy glanced at Thranduil, who was walking with another Elf towards the town square to set up his tent. "You must be a better diplomat than I thought."

She laughed, relaxing for the first time since she had begun her discussion with the Elvenking. "Thanks," she said. Then she paused. "Was that a compliment or an insult?"

The former Gatekeeper shrugged. "A bit of both, I reckon," he guessed.

000

Meanwhile, Thranduil walked through the streets of Dale with Elros, the Keeper of the Keys. "Humans can be exceedingly stupid sometimes," Thranduil grumbled.

Elros raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness?" he asked.

Thranduil sighed. "They make love into such a messy affair," he said. "Even when two people obviously have feelings for each other, none of them act on it until it's too late- or never, for that matter. It's quite irritating to watch."

The Keeper of the Keys nodded his understanding. "Bard and Marie?" he guessed. Thranduil nodded. "Well, Your Highness, sometimes love needs a third party to give it a small push... a helping hand, if you will."

Neither Elf spoke for a second, but then Thranduil nodded. "Of course," he agreed. He sighed. "I'll speak to Bard once he returns."

000

Bard, however, was oblivious to all of this as he pulled his white stallion to a stop in front of Erebor, looking up at the unforgiving gates. The opening that the dragon had crashed through just yesterday had been sealed with piles upon piles of stone. Needless to say, it was intimidating.

He might have turned back and given up on the idea of negotiation; indeed, he turned around to look at Dale. But it was the sight of the city that strengthened his resolve. He couldn't let a war happen, not without trying his hardest to prevent it. This was for his city, his people, his children... Marie.

As if on cue, the familiar figure of Thorin Oakenshield appeared above the gate, looking down on him from a platform built high up. One look at the Dwarf told Bard that this was not the same Dwarf who had sneaked aboard his barge and hidden in his house. He was sick, his eyes sunken and feverish, his hair a tangled mess. Gone was the silent dignity with which he had held himself. One by one the other Dwarves appeared beside him, all of them seeming troubled.

"Hail Thorin, son of Thrain!" Bard called. "We are glad to find you alive beyond hope!"

But Thorin just glared down at him. "Why do you come to the gates of the King Under the Mountain armed for war?" he demanded.

Bard raised an eyebrow. "Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in, like a robber in his hole?" he replied.

Thorin's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed," he retorted.

Well, Bard couldn't say that he hadn't expected that.

"My Lord," he attempted. "We have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?"

The Dwarf was silent for a second, but then he nodded and stepped backwards, out of sight. Bard dismounted his horse and crossed the bridge in front of the gate, nearing the blockade. As he did, a raven flew out of the opening above the gate and took off towards the west, cawing loudly. Bard had never been a superstitious man, but the sight made him shiver.

When he reached the blockade, he saw that there was a small hole built into it, eye level for a Dwarf.

Oh, for goodness's sake...

Sighing, Bard bent down so that he could see through the hole, trying not to feel ridiculous while doing so. Thorin was standing on the other end, scowling. "I'm listening," he stated.

Hoping to get this over with as soon as possible, Bard launched into the speech that he had prepared while riding over to the castle. "On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honor your pledge," he said. "A share of the treasure so that they may rebuild their lives."

Thorin scoffed. "I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door," he told him.

Bard glanced back at the city, where he could see the Elves in position on the walls. He turned back to the Dwarf. "That armed host will attack this mountain, if we do not come to terms," he retorted.

But the Dwarf just looked at him squarely. "Your threats do not sway me," he replied.

The Dragon-slayer glared at him, having had enough of this. "What of your conscience?" he challenged. "Does it not tell you our cause is just?!" He realized suddenly that he was shouting, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "My people offered you help. And in return you brought upon them only ruin and death!"

Thorin scoffed. "When did the men of Laketown come to our aid, but for promise of rich reward?" he snapped.

Bard looked at him in disbelief, not believing what he was hearing. "A bargain was struck!" he protested.

"A bargain?!" Thorin repeated angrily. "What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade?!" He leaned closer, his eyes fiery with anger, and his voice dropped, even though it still held the same amount of malice as it did before. "Tell me, Bard the Dragonslayer..."

Bard flinched at his new title.

"... why should I honor such terms?" Thorin asked.

For a moment Bard didn't know what to say to that. Of course, he had plenty of reasons, but he had a feeling that none of them would get through to the stubborn King Under the Mountain. It was like talking to a brick wall... which was, he realized, pretty much what he was doing right now.

Suddenly he remembered the conversation that he had with Marie before he left to Erebor. _Do you give me your word?_ she had asked. _I do,_ he told her. His word...

"Because you gave us your word," Bard told Thorin. "Does that mean nothing?"

Without warning, Thorin disappeared from the hole, leaving Bard with a view of the stone wall beyond. For a few seconds there was silence, and Bard begun to think that maybe he had managed to change Thorin's mind.

But then the king's voice rang out again, loud and angry. "Be gone, ere arrow fly!" he yelled.

He had failed.

Letting any pretense of patience leave him, Bard slapped the rock angrily, then mounted his horse and rode back to Dale. He half expected the Dwarves to shoot an arrow in his back, but within a few moments he had passed out of range. Apparently they kept their word only when they chose to.

000

Thranduil was waiting for Bard at the gates of Dale, which further deepened his mood. He had no doubt that the Elvenking would gloat over the failed negotiations, and that was something that he didn't need to deal with at the moment.

"He will give us nothing," Bard reported bitterly.

The Elvenking sighed dramatically. "Such a pity," he replied sarcastically. "Still, you tried."

Bard frowned, troubled. "I do not understand," he said. "Why? Why would he risk war?"

Suddenly, there was the sound of a crack coming from Erebor, and they turned around just in time to see the Dwarves dislodge the head of one of the massive stone statues, causing it to fall and break the bridge to the gate. Undoubtedly Thorin meant to prevent an attack from over the bridge, but he had also just trapped himself inside.

"It is fruitless to reason with them," Thranduil answered. "They understand only one thing." Without warning, he drew his sword, the blade glinting in the sunlight. "We attack at dawn. Are you with us?"

Without giving him a chance to respond, the Elvenking turned and headed back into the city, undoubtedly already preparing for battle. Bard glanced back at Erebor, deep in thought.

"Bard!"

He turned around to see Marie hurrying up to him, and he smiled, happy to see her even though his heart still weighed heavily on him. "Marie," he greeted. "It's good to see you."

She smiled at him. "I'm glad you made it back," she replied. "Thranduil and I arranged the sleeping arrangements for the Elves and we placed the command tent in the town square while you were gone. Percy's been having people clear out the buildings along the main street so that we can sleep indoors tonight."

Bard nodded. "Good," he said. "We'll need it."

Marie noticed the somber tone in his voice, and the smile slid from her face. "What did Thorin say?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

He grimaced. "We go to war tomorrow, at dawn," he answered.

Her blood chilled.

"War?" she repeated in disbelief. Bard nodded grimly, and Marie instantly pulled him into a hug. "You did your best."

Bard's arms wrapped around her as well, searching for comfort, and he rested his forehead on hers. "But it wasn't enough," he replied, his voice breaking.

"Nobody could ask for more," she told him.

They stayed that way for a few seconds, both of them drawing comfort from each other and finding the strength to go on. Then Bard took a deep breath and pulled back, his expression resigned. "We should go," he said. "We have to prepare for war." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before heading into the city, his stride long and purposeful.

Marie remained by the gates for a moment, staring out at the sinister Dwarvish castle just across the plains. Then she took a deep breath and headed after Bard.

War was coming, whether they liked it or not.


	11. Calm Before the Storm

When Bard and Marie reached the Elvish command tent in the middle of the city, they were surprised to see an Elf standing there with a horse and a picnic basket. They glanced at each other in confusion, then Bard shrugged and walked into the tent. Marie followed.

The Elves had wasted no time setting up their furniture in the tent. Thranduil's wooden throne was already placed at the head of the tent, and a handful of tables and other things were arranged around the sides of the tent. A large, wooden table was in the center, right before the throne.

And sitting in the throne was none other than Thranduil. The Elvenking raised an eyebrow as they approached him. "So will you fight with us?" he asked coolly.

Bard and Marie shared a look, then nodded. "We will," Bard said.

Thranduil didn't seem surprised. "Good," he agreed. "Now leave."

Marie raised an eyebrow. "Come again?" she requested. Bard seemed just as confused.

The Elvenking nodded. "I'll handle the war preparations," he told her. "I give you my word. Take the rest of the day off."

Bard hesitated. "But..." he trailed off.

"But nothing," Thranduil interrupted. "I've had a picnic and a horse prepared for you. Find a place with a nice view and relax. I insist."

Marie and Bard shared a look, hesitant about leaving. But then, when they saw that Thranduil wouldn't let them get out of this, Marie nodded. "Alright," she agreed.

Thranduil gestured to the flap of the tent. "Your horse awaits," he said.

Marie gave Thranduil a small smile of thanks and walked out of the tent. Bard reached out and clapped Thranduil on the shoulder. "Thank you," he told him.

He turned to follow Marie out the door, but Thranduil stood. "Bard," he said. The Dragon-slayer stopped and turned around to face him. "Marie is a special woman."

Bard smiled. "I know she is," he agreed.

Thranduil walked closer to Bard and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It takes a special type of woman to be a queen," he told him.

The smile slid from Bard's face. "Queen?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you don't see it," he stated. "When this is over, your people are going to name you King of Dale." Bard began to protest, but Thranduil held up a finger to silence him. "Trust me, they will. And trust me again when I say that the years will be long and the duties hard, but it will be easier if you have a queen at your side."

Bard grimaced ruefully. "Thranduil, I'm not exactly sure what you're getting at," he admitted.

The Elvenking gave him a look. "Yes you do," he told him. "You love Marie."

Bard stared at him blankly. "I... I what?" he asked.

Thranduil crossed his arms. "Everyone sees it, Bard," he said. "And everyone sees that she loves you too. I don't say this often, but what you have with her is something real. Take my advice and don't let her slip away. You'll only regret it."

But Bard didn't say anything at first, just stared at the Elvenking in disbelief. Then he sighed and sat down on a chair against the wall, putting his head in his hands. "I know," he admitted, his voice agonized. "I do; I love her." He looked up at the Elvenking. "After I killed the dragon I was stuck in Laketown. She came back for me, Thranduil. That's when I knew. But..."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "But what?" he asked.

Bard grimaced. "I... I _can't_ ," he said. "My wife-"

"Your wife is gone," Thranduil interrupted bluntly. Bard flinched, and Thranduil placed a hand on the Dragon-slayer's shoulder. "It's time to move on."

Bard didn't reply, only put his head back in his hands. He didn't know what to make of the emotions suddenly rushing through him. It was obvious to him now that he loved Marie; he couldn't deny it anymore. These few days that he had spent with her had made him far happier than he had been in the past few years without his wife. She would want that for him. He could hear her voice in his ear almost as clearly as if she were actually there, even though she had been gone for eight years. _You've moped around for long enough, you sentimental idiot. Listen to the Elf. It's time for you to be happy again._

 _Forgive me_ , he thought guiltily. Then he looked up at Thranduil.

"You're right," he agreed. "She would want this. She would want me to be happy."

If Bard didn't know Thranduil better, he would say that the Elvenking had a hint of a smile on his face. "Don't worry about things here," he said. "She's waiting."

Bard clapped Thranduil on the shoulder and gave him a small smile of thanks. Then, without another word, he turned and headed out of the tent.

Marie was holding the picnic basket and standing by the horse, eyeing it suspiciously. But when she saw Bard coming, a broad grin spread across her face. "What took you so long?" she asked.

Any feelings of guilt or uncertainty that Bard had about this disappeared with the sight of Marie's smile, which was like sunlight parting gray storm clouds. He smiled back, confident now that he was doing the right thing. "Thranduil needed to tell me something," he explained. "Let's go." He smirked at her. "That is, of course, if you're not too scared of the horse."

She scoffed. "I may not like horses, Bard the Bowman, but I know how to keep my seat on one," she told him.

Bard grinned as he mounted one of the horses, the white stallion that he had ridden to Erebor just moments ago. "Let's put that to a test, shall we?" he challenged.

Marie raised an eyebrow at him, but then they both burst out laughing as Bard held out a hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her up onto the horse behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist. In a moment, they were tearing through the streets of Dale, hair flying in the wind as they raced out of the city.

He would never forget his wife, he knew that. She would still be there, in his heart and mind, and in his children's as well. But he could move on. And that was what he planned to do.

000

When he saw Bard and Marie riding away, Elros ducked into the command tent. "Sir?" he asked. "Did it work?"

But he paused when he saw Thranduil sitting on his throne, his head in his hands and silent tears streaming down his face. Wordlessly, Elros left the tent, leaving before his king yelled at him for entering without invitation.

Unbeknownst to him, Elros actually didn't have anything to worry about. Thranduil hadn't even noticed that the Captain of the Guard had been there; instead, he was too busy thinking of his conversation with Bard. _Your wife is gone_ , he had told the Bowman. _It's time to move on_.

 _She would want me to be happy_ , Bard had said.

For the first time in a while, Thranduil began to doubt himself. His own wife had died, just as Bard's had, and just like the Bowman he had yet to get over her death. All the words that he had said to Bard applied to him as well. And just now, seeing the peace in Bard's eyes when he had let go of his wife, and the happiness that he felt with Marie... It made Thranduil realize that he needed to move on.

But he wasn't sure if he was ready.

000

Sigrid looked up as she heard the thundering of hooves, and she quickly pulled Bain and Tilda out of the streets. In another second, a white stallion galloped past them, as fast as the wind.

"Is that... _Da?"_ Bain asked in disbelief.

"And Marie!" Tilda exclaimed. She jumped up and down and started waving after the horse, which was by now far off in the distance. "Hi Da! Hi Marie!"

Bain frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out what was going on. "Maybe they're out on some official business?" he guessed.

Sigrid shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she said. "Da was... well... he seemed _happy._ " It was true; in the split second that they had seen their father, with his hair thrown back with the wind, there had been a light in his eyes and a presence behind his smile that she hadn't truly seen in a while. Not since their mother died. It made him seem younger, less burdened with the troubles of life.

"Isn't it obvious?" Tilda asked. "Marie's going to be our new mommy!" She looked up at them. "Right?"

The two older siblings shared a look, and Sigrid realized that Tilda was probably right. Then she smiled; if there was anybody who deserved their da, it was Marie. He had made the right choice.

"I think so, Tilda," Sigrid answered. "I think so."

"I hope so," Bain added.

000

So that was how, as the people of Laketown salvaged the city of Dale for old weapons and armor that had been left behind, Bard and Marie found themselves seated on the grassy slopes of the Lonely Mountain, looking down at the Lake and the remains of the town that had once been their home. It was a breathtaking view, with the grass swaying gently in the light breeze and the bright sun above causing the lake to glitter like gems. The sky was clear and blue, fading off into the horizon. Their horse stood a little ways off from them, grazing happily. With Dale and Erebor concealed behind the slopes of the mountain, the inevitable battle seemed far off as they sat there, eating the food that Thranduil had packed for them.

"I have to admit, Thranduil knows how to pack a picnic," Marie told Bard as she took a bite of her roll of bread.

Bard grinned at her, also holding a roll. "He does," he agreed. "The rose was a nice touch."

Marie reached up and touched the rose that Bard had tucked behind her ear when they had found it in the picnic basket. "I wonder what he's trying to do with this," she commented.

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Sending us on a picnic, giving us a rose, only packing _one_ bottle of wine," she listed. "I could go on, if you wanted."

Bard grinned at her and drank from the wine bottle. "The wine is quite good, though," he pointed out. He held out the bottle to her.

Marie had a feeling that he was avoiding the question, but she decided to let it slide, since it seemed like he was nervous about something. The thought of the war probably had him on edge. She took the bottle and drank from it as well. "You're right, it is," she agreed. "I've always rather enjoyed Elvish wine."

He took the bottle back from her. "I've actually never tried it," he admitted. "I spent every day of the last few years of my life ferrying the empty barrels from the River Running back to Laketown, though."

She grinned at him. "I forgot," she said. "You were a bargeman before all of this started."

Bard nodded. "I was," he agreed.

Marie raised an eyebrow. "How did you get into that, anyway?" she asked. "I can't imagine you setting out with the sole purpose of being a bargeman."

He laughed. "I didn't," he agreed. "My wife's father was a boat-maker, and before we were married he sold me a boat for practically nothing- he knew we were going to get married, and he wanted to make sure that I had a good job going before we did. So I became a bargeman. It was supposed to just be temporary, until I was able to get another job, but..." He shrugged. "This is Laketown. Jobs are few. So I stuck with it, and I kept looking out for other options. But then my wife died." He paused, trying to control his emotions, and Marie placed a hand on his. He gave her a small smile in return. "I just lost all motivation. I was a bargeman, and I thought that was all I would ever be."

She smiled at him, trying to cheer him up. "And here you are now," she said. "Slayer of Smaug the Terrible and leader of the forces of Men." She nudged him playfully. "Some people say that you'll become king when this is over. Should I start calling you Your Majesty?"

Bard grimaced and shook his head. "I'm not going to become king," he told her. "And even if I were, I wouldn't want people to call me Your Majesty, especially not you." He looked at her earnestly. "You're one of my most valued friends, Marie, not my subject."

For a second they were silent, but there was an energy between them, one that was so intense that it seemed like Marie could reach out and touch it. But then Bard laughed and looked away, breaking the silence. "Of course, that's only if I become king," he said. "Which I won't. I don't want power. I've seen what it does to people- people like your uncle." He glanced at her to make sure that he hadn't offended her, but she just nodded. "I'm scared of what I'll become." He raised an eyebrow. "What do you think I should do?"

Marie sighed and glanced out at the grassy slopes and the Lake below them. "I think that you shouldn't worry about it right now," she told him. "I think that you should just enjoy this moment right now."

Bard laughed. "You're right," he agreed. "I worry too much, don't I?"

She grinned at him. "A bit," she replied. "But that's a good thing."

He nudged her. "So what about you?" he asked. "What did you want to be?"

Marie shrugged. "I don't really know, honestly," she admitted. "I guess I always wanted to help people. Back in Edoras I would spend a lot of time in the healer's houses, but I didn't want to be a healer. Then when I moved here, I became-"

She cut herself off when she realized what she had been about to say. _I became the Lady_. She had almost told him her secret.

That darned Bowman... It was too easy for her to talk to him, to lose herself in his easy smile and warm gray eyes. She had almost told him her biggest secret, the one that she was determined not to tell anyone.

Yet maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to tell Bard. It wasn't like she had broken any laws- or at least, any laws that he would have an issue with. She had helped the people. He of all people would understand that. And she trusted him unlike anybody else she had ever met throughout her life. He trusted her, too.

And that, Marie suddenly realized, was why she couldn't tell him about being the Lady. He trusted her, and Bard was someone who gave his trust only to the people who earned it. If he found out that she had kept this big a secret from him, he would feel like she had betrayed him. Even though she knew that it was the right thing to tell him, she didn't want to lose his friendship. In general she wasn't a selfish person, but about this...

Well, something about Bard was different. Something about him made her happier than she had ever been. If Grotha was right, then it was love.

Was it? Maybe.

"Marie?" Bard asked. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head to clear it. "Yeah," she replied. "I'm fine. Sorry. I'm just thinking."

He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You look pretty when you think," he told her. Marie's eyes widened in surprise, not having expected that, and she looked away. Every instinct that she had told her to say something back, _anything_ to keep the conversation going, but her mind froze, and she couldn't think of anything.

Bard cleared his throat awkwardly, misinterpreting the silence. "So, um, what are you planning to do after the war?" he asked. He grinned. "Assuming that we're still alive, of course."

Marie frowned. "I don't know, actually," she answered. "I never thought about it. It seems so far away." She sighed. "I guess I'll stay here until everything is settled. Then I might go back to Rohan, reconnect with my mother's family now that I'm ready to make my own way in the world. Or I might stay here, I don't know." She glanced at him. "What about you?"

He grinned teasingly. "Well, I guess becoming king is a possibility," he said jokingly. The smile slid from his face, and he glanced out at the Lake. "Honestly, I don't know. I can't see myself staying here in Dale, but I can't see myself leaving either."

She smiled at him. "Well, I guess we just won't know together, right?" she replied.

Bard smiled back. "Aye," he agreed. "That's a plan."

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, but then Marie glanced at Bard. "You're handsome when you think," she ventured uncertainly. Bard looked up sharply, startled, but then he smiled at her.

They stayed there on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain long after they had finished Thranduil's food, talking and laughing together. Marie couldn't remember the last time that she had enjoyed herself as much as she had that afternoon with Bard. It was the calm before the storm of war hit them, and hit them hard.

But as the hours progressed, she gradually was forced to consider the possibility Grotha had been right, that Marie had feelings for Bard that were far beyond friendship. She couldn't identify exactly when she had stared to feel that way, but she knew it for sure now, as he laid with his head upon her lap and she ran her fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, when the sun was sinking lower and lower into the sky, there was the sound of horse hooves coming from the south. Bard sat up quickly, and the two of them watched as a horse shot past them a few yards away. On his back seemed to be an old man with scraggly long hair, dressed in gray robes and holding a tall staff.

"He's going to Dale," Marie realized.

Bard instantly started standing up. "We should get back," he said. "We've been away for too long." He turned around and held out a hand to her.

Marie grinned at him as she stood up on her own. "It was worth it, though," she pointed out.

He smiled back. "It was," he agreed. "I'm glad we were able to do this."

She nodded. "Me too," she replied. She nudged him. "Now let's go. We have business to get to."

000

Meanwhile, the people of Dale were still hard at work preparing for war, sharpening swords and collecting supplies. As an old man in gray robes galloped through the streets on his horse, they jumped out of the way to avoid getting run over. "Let me through!" he shouted, sounding irritated. "Make way!"

He reached the center of town and dismounted, looking around with surprise at the men drilling with swords and companies of Elves marching by. As he stood there, Alfrid stormed up to them, his nose scrunched up in distaste. "No, no, NO!" he yelled. "Oi! You- pointy hat!"

The old man turned around, looking at Alfrid with the same expression that the greasy-haired man was giving him. "Yes, you!" Alfrid exclaimed. "We don't want no tramps, beggars, nor vagabonds around here! We got enough trouble without the likes of you! Off you go! On your horse!"

But Gandalf the Grey Wizard had dealt with worse than a whiny Laketowner, and he hadn't come all the way here to be turned away. "Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

As if on cue, there was the sound of horse hooves coming the same from the same way that Gandalf had just come from. Both Gandalf and Alfrid turned to see a white stallion galloping towards them. On his back were two riders; one was a long, dark-haired young man wearing a dun-colored coat, and holding onto his waist was a young woman with slightly-wavy blond hair and piercing green eyes who held herself with remarkable grace, despite the fact that she seemed rather uncomfortable on a horse.

The man pulled the horse to a stop in front of Gandalf, and both of them looked down at him, sizing him up.

"Who's asking?" the man said.


	12. Grey

Of course, Marie had heard of Gandalf the Grey Wizard, but she hadn't expected him to be so... well... grey.

And indeed, _grey_ was the first impression that one would get of the old wizard. His robes and hat were both the same dull shade of grey, and his frazzled hair and beard were a shade of white that was closer to grey. His eyes were also a distinct blue-grey color, but with all of his grey apparel they seemed closer to... well... grey.

"You must set aside your petty grievances with the Dwarves!" Gandalf exclaimed irritably. "War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You're _all_ in mortal danger!"

Bard frowned. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Thranduil sighed dramatically. "I can see you know nothing of wizards," he told Bard. "They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm." He turned to Gandalf, his expression cold. "But sometimes a storm... is just a storm."

The four of them were standing in Thranduil's command tent, minutes after Gandalf had made his arrival in Dale. After being introduced to Bard and Marie, the wizard had insisted on meeting with Thranduil, which led to them to this situation now, where Bard and Marie stood in silence as they tried to make sense of the debate between the Elvenking and the wizard.

"Not this time," Gandalf said. "Armies of Orcs are on the move. And these are fighters! They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Why show his hand now?" he asked.

Gandalf glared. "Because we forced him!" he exclaimed. "We forced him when the Company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The Dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor; Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain, not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, it's strategic position."

Marie frowned. "Who is his master?" she wanted to know.

Gandalf and Thranduil shared a grim look. "The Necromancer," Gandalf answered. "Sauron."

She had never heard of Sauron before, and from the look on his face, neither had Bard, but the name still made her shudder.

Gandalf walked out of the tent, and the others followed him, even though it was nighttime and the sky was dark. From their current position, they had a perfect view of the gates of Erebor, still barricaded by the pile of rocks. "This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north," he told them. "If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lothlorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall!"

That sounded pretty dire to Marie, but Thranduil just looked at Gandalf with a speculative expression on his face. "These Orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir," he said. "Where are they?"

It didn't seem like Gandalf had an answer to that.

Thranduil nodded. "That's what I thought," he told him. He turned around and strode back towards the tent.

Bard, Marie, and Gandalf hurried after him. "Thranduil, maybe we shouldn't dismiss this so quickly," Bard advised. "He may be right."

They reached the tent, and Thranduil poured himself a glass of wine. "I doubt it," the Elvenking replied.

Gandalf glared at him. "Since when has my council counted for so little?!" he demanded. "What do you think I'm trying to do?!"

Thranduil's eyes flashed angrily. "I think you're trying to save your Dwarvish friends," he said. "And I admire your loyalty to them, but it does not dissuade me from my course." The Elvenking drew himself straighter, looking at Gandalf haughtily. "You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it."

With that, he headed out of the tent. Even though she couldn't see him, Marie could hear his conversation with the soldier outside. "Are the archers in position?" he asked.

"Yes, My Lord," the Elf answered.

"Give the order," Thranduil instructed. "If anything moves on that mountain- kill it!"

He returned to the tent and looked at Gandalf, whose brows were furrowed in anger. "The Dwarves are out of time," Thranduil said.

It seemed like this argument would be going on for a while, so Marie reached out and nudged Bard. He glanced over at her and nodded when he realized what she was saying. The two of them headed out of the tent, leaving Gandalf and Thranduil to deal with the situation.

"Bard! Marie! There you two are!"

They turned to see Percy running up to them. "What's wrong?" Bard asked.

Percy shook his head. "Nothing, nothing," he replied. "But we were looking all over for you! Thranduil said you were doing something important."

Marie and Bard shared a look. "Sorry about that," Marie said. "Did we miss anything?"

He shrugged. "We found the old armory and started training with the weapons," he reported. He grimaced. "We have some bowmen and some swordsmen. We're still far from fighting shape, but it's better than nothing."

Bard clapped Percy on the shoulder. "You did what you could," he reassured him. "At least they won't be completely defenseless tomorrow. "

Percy nodded. "At least," he agreed grimly. He gave them a look. "Where were you guys, anyway?"

They hesitated. "Um..." Bard trailed off.

Percy laughed awkwardly. "Grotha says that you were on a date," he said.

"A date?" Bard repeated incredulously.

"No, no, not a date," Marie reassured him.

"Or, at least, I wouldn't call it a date," Bard continued.

"Not necessarily," Marie added.

Percy raised an eyebrow.

Bard cleared his throat awkwardly. "Why don't you get some rest, Percy?" he suggested. "You've had a long day."

Percy nodded and let out a yawn. "That sounds good right about now," he agreed. "Goodnight, Bard. Night, Marie." He turned and headed off, yawning as he did.

Once Percy was out of earshot, Bard turned to Marie, a teasing grin on his face. "So, Grotha thinks that we were on a date," he remarked.

Marie laughed. "So she does," she agreed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Were we?" he asked.

"You, Bowman!" Gandalf demanded, before Marie could reply. Both of them whirled around to see the wizard exiting the tent, seeming annoyed. "Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of Dwarves?!"

Apparently he was still upset about Thranduil.

Bard shook his head. "It will not come to that," he said, even though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "This is a fight they cannot win."

"That won't stop them. You think the Dwarves will surrender- they won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own!"

The three of them whirled around to see a small figure standing there. He was about as tall as Marie's chest, with curly brown hair and big, hairy feet. She had seen him before; he was the Hobbit who had been with Thorin's company.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf exclaimed gleefully.

000

Within a few moments Bilbo was being presented to Thranduil, who was sitting on his throne. Marie was sitting on one of the tables off to the side with Bard standing next to her, and Gandalf was in position behind Bilbo.

"If I'm not mistaken," Thranduil drawled, "this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards."

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly and shifted his weight, looking down at his feet. "Uh... yes," he admitted. "Sorry about that."

Silence.

He stepped forward and placed something on the large table in the center of the tent. Marie leaned forward and saw that it was some sort of package, wrapped in a small grimy cloth. "I came to give you this," he told them. He unfolded the cloth, stepping back to reveal the most beautiful jewel that Marie had ever seen.

It was large, about the size of Marie's fist, if not bigger. Marie couldn't safely say what color it was; at first she would have said that it was glowing white, but the longer she looked at it the more it seemed to change colors, glittering in the light. She knew without question what it was, even though she had never seen it before.

"The Heart of the Mountain!" Thranduil breathed. "The King's Jewel!"

The four of them approached the table and stared at the Arkenstone in awe. "And worth a king's ransom," Bard realized. She followed his thought process instantly; they could demand their share of the treasure in return for the Arkenstone. War could be avoided.

But Bard seemed uncomfortable with accepting the Arkenstone. "How is this yours to give?" he asked.

Bilbo hesitated. "I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure," he admitted. Marie could have sworn that she saw Gandalf smiling.

Marie placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "You've just saved everyone on this mountain."

Bard fixed Bilbo with a sharp look, not satisfied. "Why would you do this?" he demanded. "You owe us no loyalty."

Bilbo shook his head. "I'm not doing it for you," he told them. "I know that Dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive... with the _worst_ manners you can possibly imagine... " He paused, trying to find the right words. "But they can also be brave and kind... and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can."

He took a deep breath. "Thorin values this stone above all else," he said. "In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war."

Marie frowned. "You're betraying them," she told him. "You know that, right?"

Bilbo grimaced. "I know," he replied. "But I'm also saving them."

Thranduil nodded. "I've found that there is always a grey area where one may be both right and wrong at the same time," he commented.

Marie shared a look with Bard, Thranduil, and Gandalf. All of them knew exactly what they were going to do. What they had to do.

000

The meeting had been resolved rather quickly, and at Gandalf's request, Marie was accompanying him and Bilbo through the streets of Dale. She wasn't exactly sure why he wanted her with them, but she wasn't one to question a wizard; so that was how, as the rest of the Laketowners prepared for the upcoming confrontation with the Dwarves, Marie, Gandalf, and Bilbo strolled down the old streets.

"Rest up tonight," Gandalf instructed Bilbo. "You must leave tomorrow."

Bilbo blinked in surprise. "What?" he demanded.

But Gandalf merely ignored him and continued on. "Get as far away from here as possible," he ordered.

The Hobbit stopped walking, causing Gandalf and Marie to stop as well. "I'm- I'm not leaving!" he protested. "You picked me as the fourteenth man. I'm not about to leave the company now."

Gandalf shook his head. "There is no company- not anymore," he said. "And I don't like to think what Thorin will do when he finds out what you've done." Marie couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this conversation, like she shouldn't be here, and she shifted her weight awkwardly.

Bilbo crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'm not afraid of Thorin," he replied.

The wizard frowned. "But you should be!" he exclaimed. "Don't underestimate the evil of gold, gold over which a serpent has long brooded. Dragon-sickness seeps into the hears of all who come near this mountain." Bilbo raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Gandalf laughed. "Almost all," he amended.

Alfrid suddenly walked by, and Gandalf turned his attention from Bilbo. "You there!" he called to the former deputy. Alfrid stopped walking and turned around to face Gandalf. "Find this Hobbit a bed, and fill his belly with hot food." Gandalf looked down at Bilbo with a smile. "He has earned it."

Grumbling under his breath, Alfrid walked over and began to lead Bilbo away. As he passed, Gandalf reached out and grabbed Alfrid's arm. "Keep an eye on him," he ordered quietly, too quietly for Bilbo to hear. "If he should try to leave, you will tell me."

Alfrid shook off Gandalf's arm and glared at Marie, who didn't shy away from his gaze. He turned and walked off, but a group of people walked in front of him. "Move it!" he snapped as he pushed his way through them. "Stupid..."

Marie and Gandalf waited until Bilbo and Alfrid had walked off, but then she turned to the wizard. "Why did you want me here?" she asked.

Gandalf smiled. "I wished to talk to you," he replied. He gestured to an alley off to the side, out of earshot from the Laketowners and Elves still walking through the streets. Marie nodded and headed off in that direction, and Gandalf followed.

When they were deep enough into the alley that they were concealed in shadow, both of them stopped walking, and Gandalf looked down at Marie. "I haven't been to Laketown much," he commented, "but I've heard that it is protected by a strange sort of... guardian angel, if you will. Her name is the Lady of Giving."

Marie's eyes narrowed warily. "I've heard of her," she agreed, trying to keep her tone neutral. Did he suspect? Did he _know?_ "She leaves food for the people."

The wizard nodded. "Left, more accurately," he commented. "She hasn't been around for the past few days, I gather- after Smaug's attack. It's a shame; I was hoping to meet her."

She shook her head. "The Lady doesn't let anyone see her," she replied, repeating the well-used words that everyone in Laketown knew.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he asked. "Such a shame."

Marie nodded. "Maybe you'll have better luck next time," she said. With that, she turned to head out of the alley.

"Oh, Marie! You forgot something!"

She turned around just in time to see something flying towards her. She reached out and caught it. As soon as it was in her grasp she knew what it was: the cloak she had used as the Lady, the one that she had left in the ruins of the Lake. She looked up sharply at Gandalf, who had a smile on his face. "There's no need to avoid the truth, Marie," he said. "I know."

Marie smiled back, strangely at ease with him knowing her secret. It was like a part of her had already known that he would figure it out. "I'm not surprised," she replied. "What gave it away?"

Gandalf laughed. "It was rather obvious, if one were to sit down and think about it," he told her. "You're lucky that the people of Laketown don't." He held up a stuffed bag. "The Lady brings hope, Marie, and hope is one thing they need now more than ever. It's time for your return."

She was silent for a few moments, but then she reached out and took the bag. She opened it and saw that it was filled with fresh food, not taken from the supplies that the Elves gave them but from somewhere else. Eyes wide, she looked up at Gandalf. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

He gave her a small smile. "Because I have found that darkness is kept at bay not by great power, but by simple acts of kindness and love," he answered. He raised an eyebrow. "Does Bard know?"

Marie shook her head. "No," she answered.

Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder. "You should consider telling him," he said. "Now go. Bring hope." Marie nodded, then turned and hurried out of the alley with her cloak and bag in hand.

000

Marie had forgotten what it was like to prowl the streets at night.

Of course, things were different from when she had last been the Lady. The whole situation was different; _she_ was different. But with her cloak over her shoulders and a bag of food in her hands, Marie felt like nothing had changed. This was where she had made her home all those years ago, in the shadows of the night. She was back now, back to her kingdom. Once again she was in charge of her own fate, instead of entrusting it to others.

Even though she wasn't as familiar with Dale as she had been with Laketown, it didn't take her long to find a good place to leave the sack of food: the Great Hall, where everyone passed at least once during the day. She placed the bag on the steps of the Great Hall and carved her symbol- the cornucopia- on the ground in front of it. There was no need for the dramatic propaganda she had used back in Laketown against her uncle; this time, all she had to do was to remind the Laketowners that she was still here, still watching over them. That was all they needed.

Marie had just stepped back from her handiwork when she heard the sound of a group of Elves approaching, talking quietly in their fair language. She hurriedly ducked around the corner of the building, and the Elves walked by, none of them noticing her or the food that she had left. When she deemed that it was safe, Marie stepped out from her hiding place and hurried back to the recently-cleared room that she had been assigned to, just across the street from Bard and his children.

It felt good to be back.

Within a few minutes, she made it to her room, and it didn't take her long after that to lay in bed, her cloak folded neatly beneath her bed. As she drifted into that grey, twilight time before sleep, Gandalf's voice echoed through her head, causing her to toss and turn uneasily.

 _Does Bard know?_

 _No._

 _You should consider telling him._

And then she saw Bilbo's determined face staring up at her, his arms crossed. _There is always a grey area where one may be both right and wrong at the same time,_ Thranduil had said.

 _Right and wrong at the same time..._

000

Marie, Bard, Thranduil, and Gandalf had been in the command tent the next morning when a messenger burst into the tent, claiming that the Lady had struck again.

"The Lady?" Thranduil repeated dubiously, looking at the messenger strangely. He turned to the others. "Have you ever heard of her?"

Bard nodded thoughtfully. "Aye," he replied. Gandalf glanced at Marie, silently asking if she had told him, but she just shook her head. "She is a woman from Laketown. Nobody knows who she really is, but she used to leave food for the people and protest against the Master. She was absent for the past few days. I assumed that she had died in the fire."

Thranduil scoffed. "Apparently not," he said. He turned to the messenger. "You may go." The messenger left the tent, and Thranduil turned to Bard. "After we take care of the Dwarves I would advise you to find this... _Lady_ , Bard. It seems that she has the hearts of the people, and it would be wise to make an ally of her." Marie grimaced uncomfortably.

"We'll leave that until after we speak with Thorin," Gandalf interrupted, for her sake. "We should go now."

The Elvenking stood from his throne. "Indeed," he agreed. With that, he walked out of the tent, his robes swirling elegantly behind him. Gandalf gave Bard and Marie a look, as if he were about to say something, but then he realized they wanted to be alone and headed out as well.

Bard turned to Marie, his gaze uneasy. "I would rather you stay here," he told her. "I want you to be safe. You, Bain, Sigrid, Tilda..."

She nodded. "I know," she replied. "I'll keep an eye on them, and everyone else here too. Don't worry."

He forced a small smile, even though she could still see the worry in his eyes. "I'm leaving Dale in your hands, Marie," he said.

Marie held his gaze, and it suddenly dawned on her that this might be the last time that she saw him. She reached out and took his hands; his callouses were hard against her skin, but she didn't mind. If anything, it reminded her how much she loved this man standing in front of her, the man who trusted her completely with his life and the lives of those around them but who was still oblivious to her biggest secret. "There's something you should know before you go," she told him.

Bard frowned at the urgency in her tone. "Marie?" he asked, confused.

She took a deep breath. "Bard, I'm the La-" she started.

"DA!"

They turned to see Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda running into the tent. They instantly stepped away from each other, and the three children instantly tackled Bard in a hug. "Da, Percy said that you're going treasure hunting!" Tilda declared. "Was he telling the truth?"

Bard chuckled. "Yes, he was, Tilda," he replied.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Can I come?" she asked. " _Please?_ "

He knelt down in front of her and tilted up her chin so that she was looking at him. "But if you come with me, who's going to be watching the city?" he asked gently.

Tilda's eyes widened. "I'm in charge?" she said.

Bard smiled. "You can do whatever you want, as long as Marie agrees," he told her.

The little girl grinned. "Yay!" she exclaimed.

Bard stood and placed a hand on Bain and Sigrid's shoulders. The two older siblings knew more than Tilda did, and they looked at Bard with grave expressions. Wordlessly, he pulled them into a hug, which they returned. Sigrid was crying silent tears, and it seemed like Bain was struggling to keep his self control. "Good luck," Sigrid said quietly.

Bard stepped away from them, and then he turned to Marie. They were both silent for a moment as they stared at each other, but then Bard hugged her as well. "Take care of them," he whispered.

Marie closed her eyes, as if doing so would make this easier. "Don't die," she breathed.

And then Bard pulled away, his eyes slightly wet. Without a word, he turned away and started out of the tent. He stopped before exiting the tent, not sure if he should turn around for one last look; but something told him that if he did, he wouldn't find it in himself to leave.

So he walked out without a backwards glance.

As soon as he was gone, Tilda ran out of the tent. "Tilda!" Marie exclaimed. "Come back here!" Marie ran out after Bard's youngest child, followed by Sigrid and Bain.

They followed Tilda all the way up to the wall around the city. Marie was about to scold Tilda for running away, but then she saw what the little girl was staring at: Erebor. She placed a hand on Tilda's shoulder, and Sigrid and Bain stepped closer to them as they all watched the army of Elves and Laketowners march out of Dale.

And the grey clouds hovered above the Lonely Mountain, watching with a cold eye and waiting for the storm to hit.


	13. Peace or War

The day was still young by the time that the plain in front of the Lonely Mountain was covered in legions of Elves and Men, all of them armed for battle. They stared up at the blockaded gates of Erebor, where the Dwarves were standing in the battlements above the gates. They were dressed in the armor of their ancestors, and Thorin was wearing an elaborate helmet that glinted in the sunlight. There was a fell silence in the air, and for a few moments nobody moved.

But then Thranduil and Bard rode together to the front of their army, with Thranduil on his elk and Bard on the same white stallion as yesterday. The Elvenking was wearing silver battle armor, but Bard merely had on a thin blue jacket over his normal clothes. Slowly, they approached the moat that separated them from Erebor.

Without warning, Thorin drew a bow and let loose an arrow, which hit the ground directly in front of Thranduil's elk. He and Bard halted in surprise and looked up at the King Under the Mountain, whose eyes were shining furiously. "I will put the next one between your eyes!" he threatened.

Thorin placed another arrow to the bow, and the Dwarves on the wall cheered loudly, shaking their weapons as they did. Thranduil stared up at Thorin, a cold fire shining behind his eyes, and he tilted his head slightly. At his command, the rows of Elves near the front of the army pulled out their bows, nocked their arrows, and aimed at the Dwarves, all in one fluid motion. Instantly, the Dwarves stopped cheering and ducked behind the ramparts... all besides Thorin, who remained with his bow drawn and eyes flaming like a madman's.

For a few seconds, the plains were still, but then Thranduil smirked and raised his hand. The Elves put away their arrows with the same fluid grace in which they had drawn them, and the Dwarves slowly stood up again, but Thorin remained as he was.

"We've come to tell you that payment of your debt has been offered... and accepted," Thranduil informed the King Under the Mountain, his tone smug.

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "What payment?!" he demanded. "I gave you _nothing!_ You have _nothing!"_

Bard shrugged. "We have this," he answered.

The Dragon- slayer reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out the Arkenstone, holding it above his head. The jewel sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight, and the Dwarves' eyes widened in surprise. Thorin lowered his bow in disbelief, his gaze fixed on the stone that had been the object of his thoughts for the last few days.

"They have the Arkenstone?!" Kili demanded angrily, breaking the silence. "Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house?! That stone belongs to the king!"

Bard slipped the Arkenstone back into his robe. "And the king may have it, in our good will," he answered. "But first he must honor his word." He tried not to look Kili in the eye; because if he did, he would remember how just a few days ago the young Dwarf had been moments away from dying on the dinner table of his house, now long lost in the flames. Just a few days ago they had been allies. But now...

"THE ARKENSTONE IS IN THIS MOUNTAIN!" Thorin yelled at them. "IT IS A TRICK!"

Well, that was unexpected.

The old Dwarf- Balin, was it?- looked at Thorin in shock, and the other Dwarves seemed startled as well. None of them seemed able to believe that Thorin would even consider this when the jewel had clearly been the real thing.

Something had to be done, fast. The only question was, who would do it?

"It- it's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them."

Everyone turned to see none other than Bilbo Baggins step out from behind the Dwarves, standing there resolutely. The King Under the Mountain was absolutely still as he stared at the Hobbit, an expression of shock on his face. Thranduil and Bard shared a look, concerned for Bilbo's safety. "You..." Thorin muttered.

Bilbo gulped. "I took it as my fourteenth share," he said.

But Thorin acted as if he hadn't even heard him. "You would steal from me?" he asked in disbelief.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "Steal from you?" he repeated. He shook his head, a small smile on his face. "No. No, I may be a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one. I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."

Thorin's expression hardened and contorted as he glared at the Hobbit. "Against your claim?!" he shouted. " _Your claim?!_ You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!"

The King Under the Mountain threw down his bow in anger and stormed towards Bilbo who, to his credit, didn't back away. "I was going to give it to you," he told him. "Many times I wanted to, but..."

" _But what, thief?!"_ Thorin demanded.

Bilbo looked at him in exasperation. "You are changed, Thorin!" he exclaimed. Thorin stopped abruptly, staring at Bilbo with an expression that seemed halfway human, as if something in his words rang true. "The Dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"

But then Thorin's anger seemed to come back. "Do not speak to me of _loyalty!_ " he roared. He turned to the other Dwarves, his eyes shining with what could only be described as insanity. "Throw him from the rampart!"

Bilbo's eyes widened in surprise, and the other Dwarves stared at Thorin in confusion, but nobody moved. Thorin looked from Dwarf to Dwarf in surprise. "DO YOU HEAR ME?!" he demanded. He grabbed Fili's arm, but Fili shook him off, staring at his uncle with a blank expression.

Thorin's eyes narrowed when he realized that none of his Company would follow his orders. "I will do it myself!" he declared. Without any further warning, he lunged at Bilbo, pushing him against the battlements and trying to toss him over. "CURSE YOU!"

"No!" Fili exclaimed.

The other Dwarves lunged forward and tried to pull Thorin off of Bilbo. Within a matter of seconds, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield had been reduced to a shouting mess. "Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this company!" Thorin yelled, his voice carrying over the others.

"IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY BURGLAR..."

Everyone whirled around to see Gandalf the Grey Wizard striding through the army of Elves, his staff in hand and his voice magically amplified so that all could hear him. But as he neared, his voice slowly returned to its normal volume and tone. "... then please don't harm him," he finished as he took his place in between Thranduil and Bard. "Return him to me! You're not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, _Thorin son of Thrain?"_

Something changed in Thorin's expression as he stared at the Wizard, and he stepped away from Bilbo. The other Dwarves hurriedly helped the Hobbit to his feet. "Never again will I have dealings with wizards..." Thorin growled. "Or Shire-rats!"

Bard watched as the Dwarf with the weird hat- Bofur?- pushed Bilbo towards a rope that was hanging over the battlements. With minimal urging, Bilbo started clambering down the side of the castle.

"Are we resolved?" Bard called out, once Bilbo had safely rejoined them. "The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?"

Thorin, still breathing heavily from the fight, looked to a ridge in the distance, off to the east. It seemed to Bard that he was searching for something, but nothing was there.

"Give us your answer!" Bard said. "Will you have peace or war?"

Suddenly, before Thorin could reply, a large raven flew up to the ramparts and perched beside the Dwarf king. If it wasn't Bard's imagination, it seemed to be the same raven that he had seen flying out of the castle yesterday.

For a few seconds, Thorin maintained eye contact with the raven, as if they were speaking; and then Thorin turned his attention back to Bard, fixing him with a glare. "I will have war!" he declared.

As if on cue, there was a rumbling off in the distance, and Bard turned around to see that the ridge that had been empty moments ago was now being covered by troops and troops of heavily armored Dwarves. In front of them all was a huge Dwarf with red, fiery hair, riding... a pig?

"Ironfoot," Gandalf breathed.

The Dwarves from the Company started cheering as the army from the Iron Hills marched forward, but they were the only ones who were happy with this new development. " _Ribo i thangail!"_ Thranduil shouted, spurring his elk into action. He and the Elves turned away from the gates of Erebor and began marching forward to meet the Dwarves of the Iron Hills. The Laketowners hurried to follow the Elves, and Bard sighed as he rode after Thranduil.

 _It will not come to that,_ Bard had told Gandalf just last night, on the topic of war.

Yeah, right.

Bilbo hurried after Gandalf, struggling to keep up with the Wizard's long strides. "Who is that?" he asked, pointing to the Dwarf in the lead. "He doesn't look very happy."

Gandalf grimaced. "It is Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills- Thorin's cousin," he answered.

Bilbo frowned. "Are they alike?" he wanted to know.

The Wizard was silent as he considered that. "I always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two," he finally said.

Oh dear...

Bard glanced at Thranduil as they approached the oncoming Dwarves. "Why is he riding a pig?" he asked.

"He is a Dwarf," Thranduil stated, as if that explained it.

The two armies halted a short distance from one another, and Dain rode his pig onto a rocky overlook, glaring down at Thranduil, Bard, and Gandalf. "Good morning!" he declared. "How are we all?!"

Silence.

He continued on, not daunted. "I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn't mind giving me a few moments of your time!" he exclaimed. "Would you consider... _Just. Sodding. OFF?!_ All of you, right now!"

The Laketowners clutched their weapons and leaned away, but the Elves pulled out their swords in sync and stepped forward. "Stand fast!" Bard ordered.

Gandalf strode forward, clearly exasperated. "Come now, Lord Dain!" he said.

Dain turned his attention to the Wizard. "Gandalf the Grey!" he exclaimed. "Tell this rabble to leave, or I'll water the ground with their blood!"

But Gandalf just glared at him. "There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men, and Elves!" he told him. "A legion of Orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down!"

Dain scoffed. "I will not stand down before any Elf!" he declared loudly. "Not least this faithless woodland sprite!" Everyone turned to Thranduil, whose gaze darkened. "He wishes nothing but ill upon my people! If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then!"

The Erebor Dwarves let out a loud cheer, but Thranduil just scoffed. "He's clearly mad... like his cousin!" he retorted.

"You hear that, lads?!" Dain exclaimed. He turned back to his army. "Come on! Let's give these bastards a good hammering!"

One of the Dwarves yelled out a command, and the army started cheering and shaking their weapons in the air. Instantly, the Elves shifted positions so that their shield-bearers were at the front of the army, while the archers stood behind them.

But before either army could make a further move, the ground started rumbling slightly, just enough to be noticed. Everyone froze, and the battlefield fell silent as they tried to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"Were-worms," Gandalf realized.

Suddenly, massive worms burst out from the ground by one of the spurs of the mountain, each of them hundreds of feet long and dozens of feet thick. Their mouths, made of rows upon rows of teeth, broke through the rock easily. "Oh, come _on!"_ Dain complained.

And then they were gone, slithering through another tunnel. The armies barely had any time to comprehend the sudden appearance and then disappearance of the worms when legions of Orcs came pouring out of the new tunnels in the ground. A loud horn sounded from the top of a nearby hill, and everyone turned to see that none other than Azog the Defiler was standing there, with a large signaling device made of wood, rope, and cloth behind him. The Orc let out a shout in the Black Speech, and his army roared loudly in response.

"The hordes of hell are upon us!" Dain exclaimed. "To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!" With that, he and the army of Dwarves turned and rushed towards the oncoming Orcs. It was clear within a few moments that the Dwarves were dangerously outnumbered.

Bilbo frowned. "The Elves," he said. "Will they not fight?"

Gandalf turned to Thranduil angrily. "Thranduil!" he exclaimed. "This is madness!"

The Elvenking turned to look at the army of Dwarves. They had stopped their charge and built a shield wall, with their massive spears pointing outwards. Still, the Orcs charged forward.

Thranduil sighed and held up his hand.

Right as the Orcs reached the wall of Dwarves, the Elves leaped up over the shield wall from behind in one graceful wave. They landed in front of the Dwarves and sliced their way through the Orcs, swords flying. The Dwarves let out a shout of victory and raised their shield wall, rushing forward and hacking away at the Orcs while shouting profanities at the top of their lungs.

Bilbo remained where he was standing, watching the battle with wide eyes. "Eh, Gandalf," he said. "Is this a good place to stand?"

Suddenly, the Orcs' signaling device shifted, and on command a new legion of Orcs joined the battle, this time including massive trolls and other monsters. Thranduil shouted in Elvish, and his troops pulled out their bows.

But then the signaling device changed again, and even more Orcs marched out of the tunnels. Unlike the first two legions, they didn't start fighting the Dwarves and Elves; no, they headed towards Dale.

"Azog- he's trying to cut us off!" Gandalf realized.

Bard watched with wide eyes as massive trolls, many with Orcs and wooden catapults on their back, marched towards the city. Tilda, Bain, Sigrid, _Marie..._ they were all there, and none of them knew what was coming. He saw them as clearly as if they were right there beside him: Tilda asking if the Dwarves would bring them luck, Bain climbing to the top of the tower to give him the Black Arrow, Sigrid always greeting him with a smile even when times were hard, and Marie, sitting on the slopes of the mountain with a rose tucked behind her ear and the sun setting behind her, illuminating her face as she smiled at him, her eyes shining brightly.

He had lost his wife already. He wasn't going to lose them too.

"All of you, fall back to Dale!" Bard ordered. " _Now!_ "

With that, Bard, the Laketowners, Gandalf, and Bilbo ran back towards the city, all of them praying that they would make it in time.

"To the city!" Gandalf exclaimed. "Bilbo! This way!"


	14. The Storm

As the situation outside the gates of Erebor worsened, Marie and the children were safe inside the walls of Dale, oblivious to the approaching danger. To occupy their minds, they and a few other Laketowners had decided to wander through the city and familiarize themselves more with their new home; the only other option would be to think about Bard and the negotiations with the Dwarves, and if they did that they would drive themselves insane with worry.

"Marie?" Tilda suddenly asked. "Can I ask you a question?"

The young woman turned her attention to Bard's daughter, who was staring up at her with wide eyes. "What is it?" Marie replied.

Tilda glanced at the dusty buildings around her, then turned her attention back to Marie. "Are there ghosts here?" she whispered.

Marie hesitated, trying to decide how to answer that. "None that can hurt you," she finally replied. She smiled and ruffled up Tilda's hair. "Don't be scared."

But Tilda's chin just jutted up in defiance. "I'm not," she declared, even though her voice quavered a little at the end. She reached out and took Marie's hand. "Da says that Ma is still with us. Does that mean she's a ghost?"

Oh dear...

Before this week, Marie hadn't really had much experience with children. She didn't know what to say in this situation, not sure how much she was supposed to tell Tilda... so, she decided to go with the truth, or at least a cushioned version of it. "I don't know, Tilda," she replied. "But I think your mother's looking out for you, wherever she is now."

Tilda nodded, as if that answer was acceptable. "Ma would have liked you," she declared. "She'd be happy that you're with Da."

Marie smiled. "I'm glad," she said. But then she realized what Tilda had said, and she gave her a look. "What do you mean, I'm _with_ your Da?"

"Nothing!" Bain exclaimed quickly. Marie turned around to where Sigrid and Bain were walking behind them. "She just means she's glad that you're friends with Da."

Tilda frowned. "No, I wasn't," she stated. "You like Da, don't you, Marie?"

Marie hesitated, taken aback. "Well, I-" she started.

"What's that?" Tilda suddenly interrupted.

Sigrid frowned in concern. "What's what?" she asked. "Tilda, we already told you there aren't any ghosts-"

"No, over there!" Tilda exclaimed, pointing in the direction of Erebor.

The three of them turned and followed her gaze. To their surprise, Tilda hadn't been making things up; there was a black shadow making its way towards the city, emerging from the foothills from the Lonely Mountain. It took Marie a second to realize that it wasn't a shadow; no, it was an army of Orcs.

Marie's eyes widened in horror. For a moment she was a scared girl of sixteen again, and she had just been told that her parents had been killed in an Orc raid. This was the first time that she had ever seen an Orc, and they were more horrible than she had ever imagined. Just the sight of them was enough to petrify her, to freeze her in place.

But then she glanced at the three children standing beside her, and the handful of other Laketowners who had come with them. From the look in their eyes, they were just as terrified as she was. Last week, the sight of them would have made her even more scared; but now it reminded her that she had a responsibility to them, to keep them alive. And that was enough for her to put them first.

"RUN!" Marie shouted. "Back to the town!"

Instantly, they all started running back the way they had came, taking off as fast as they could away from the rapidly approaching Orc army. Tilda was being pulled along by Marie, and Sigrid and Bain were right behind them.

And then a troll rammed into the city wall, head first.

Without even an ounce of resistance, the wall fell, and the Orcs flooded into Dale.

000

When Bard rode into Dale on his white stallion, he was greeted by fleeing Laketowners, all of them trying to get far away from where the city wall had collapsed and the Orcs had spilled into the streets. He could sense the tension in the air, the panic. It pained him to see them like this; it told him that he had failed them, failed to keep them safe.

But it didn't pain him as much as it should have, because his mind was only on one thing: his family.

"My children!" he shouted at the passing crowd. "Marie! Where are they?!"

One of the women passing by reached out and grabbed his arm. "I saw them," she said. "They were down in the old market."

Bard frowned. "The market?!" he exclaimed. "Where are they now?!" He turned to the crowd again, searching anxiously. "Tilda! Marie!"

Suddenly, before the woman could reply, Percy came running up to them. "Bard, Orcs are storming over the causeway!" he told him urgently.

Bard scowled in determination. "Get the bowmen to the eastern parapet," he instructed. "Hold them off as long as you can!"

Percy nodded. "Archers, this way!" he ordered. He and a handful of Lakemen with bows ran off towards the eastern parapet.

When Bard turned around to continue his conversation with the woman, she was gone, already pulled along with the crowd.

"The Orcs have taken Stone Street!" a man shouted as he ran by. "The market's overrun!"

The market... That was where his family was.

Bard turned to the remaining soldiers, his gaze wild in panic. "The rest of you, follow me!" he ordered, his voice managing to still sound authoritative even though he was shaking inside. Without another word, he ran off towards the market, followed by an army of Lakemen.

000

It hadn't taken long for Marie and the children to get separated from the other Laketowners who had been with them, and now they were running through the old streets, trying to avoid the Orcs. "Quickly, through here!" Marie shouted. As she ran, she couldn't help but remember that first night so long ago, when she and Bard had ran through the streets of Laketown, fleeing from Braga and his guards. But now the stakes were higher, and one misstep would kill them.

She pulled Tilda into a nearby building, and Sigrid and Bain followed her. As soon as the four of them were safely inside, Marie and Bain slammed the door shut behind them and bolted it closed with a metal bar.

"Will we be safe in here?" Sigrid whispered.

Marie glanced at the door. "I don't know," she replied. "We'll stay in here until it's clear outside." She looked out the window and frowned. "I just hope your da's okay."

Tilda reached out and took Marie's hand. "It'll be okay, Marie," she stated, without any hesitation whatsoever. "Da will find us. He'll know we're here."

Marie had to admire Tilda's confidence in Bard, but she herself couldn't imagine how Bard would be able to find them if he was fighting by Erebor.

"Where are we?" Bain asked quietly.

Sigrid frowned. "I lost track," she admitted.

Marie grimaced. "We're somewhere in the old marketplace," she answered. She had a bad feeling that nobody knew where they were, but she didn't want to worry the children, so she remained silent.

As if responding to her thoughts, there was a sudden shout from outside, and then the clashing of swords. Marie and the children ran to the window to see that a large group of Lakemen had arrived. They met the Orc army head on, and within a few moments they were deep in battle.

"Yes!" Bain exclaimed.

Marie was instantly scanning the army of Laketowners for Bard, but there were too many people for her to see properly. Her stomach churned in anxiety. Of course, just because she couldn't see him didn't mean that something was wrong, but Marie wouldn't be at ease until she knew for sure that he was still alive.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. The next moment, the door to the building flew open, and an Orc stormed in, brandishing a deadly club and roaring angrily. Once again, Marie was frozen in place, terrified by the sight of the Orc's misshapen body and the evil sneer on his face, but then Tilda let out a high pitched scream. That was enough to clear Marie's mind; her eyes went to the metal bolt bar that had been previously across the door, now laying on the ground only a few feet away from her. She glanced up at the Orc, who was still sneering at them but hadn't moved, and then back to the bar.

She lunged forward.

Before the Orc could even react, her hand closed around the bar, and she swung it at his head as hard as she could. There was something that sounded like a crack, and then the Orc fell to the ground, unconscious.

The four of them stood there in silence for a second, staring in shock at the unconscious Orc in front of them and the metal bar in Marie's hand. But then Marie's eyes hardened. "Let's go!" she shouted. Sigrid grabbed Tilda's hand, and they and Bain hurried out of the building. Marie took one last glance at the Orc that she had knocked out, then turned and ran out after them.

000

Meanwhile, Alfrid was running through the streets at the head of a group of Laketowners, waving a sword in the air as they neared a group of Orcs. "Charge! Onward! TO THE DEATH!" he yelled.

But apparently the strain was too much for him, because he paused for a moment, catching his breath. He remained there for a few seconds as the group ran past him, and then he took a suspicious glance around. When he was certain that nobody was looking, he slipped off into an alleyway.

The Master would have been proud.

000

"Sigrid! Tilda!"

Marie, who had been in the front of the group, whirled around to see that two Orcs had sneaked up behind them, right behind Sigrid and Tilda. The two girls screamed, but before the Orcs could do anything, Bain let out a cry and stabbed the first Orc with a sword. It fell to the ground, dead. But then the second Orc knocked Bain to the ground and swung at the boy with his own sword, but it got caught on the wall overhead. Bain used his chance and stabbed the Orc, killing that one as well.

"... where did you get a sword from?" Marie demanded.

Bain grinned sheepishly. "Da gave it to me," he admitted.

Before anybody could reply, there was a shout from up the street, and they whirled around to see a group of Laketowners fighting uphill from them. Marie's eyes instantly locked onto Bard's form, smack in the middle of the battle.

"DA!" Sigrid shouted.

"Da! We're down here!" Tilda exclaimed.

"Here!" Bain added.

"BARD!" Marie called.

The Bowman turned around at the sound of his name, and his eyes locked on them. His gaze, still ferocious from fighting, softened when he saw them there, and he smiled, his relief shining through his eyes. But then his expression turned alarmed as his gaze fixed on something behind them. "BEHIND YOU!" he shouted.

Marie whirled around to see that a giant troll had entered the lane behind them. As she watched, the troll swung his large mace, and the unfortunate men in its path were thrown aside like rag dolls. It looked up, and his eyes locked on the four of them with a growl. Sigrid and Tilda screamed, and Bain looked horrified. Marie looked down at the metal bar that was still in her hand, but when she looked back up at the troll she knew that it wouldn't do anything. Slowly, she grabbed the children and began to back away.

"BAIN, SIGRID, MARIE- GET DOWN!"

Marie turned around to see Bard hurrying towards a cart that had fallen on its side. He tilted it upright, then scrambled inside and launched it down the lane towards them. The next second, it was hurtling through the street, bouncing over the uneven cobblestones at an unbelievable speed.

Instantly, she pulled the three children down, just as the cart bounced over them. It smashed into the troll, causing it to fly backwards. Bard was also thrown from the cart, and somehow, just as the troll rammed into a building behind him, Bard's sword pierced the troll's chest, right where his heart was.

The dead troll slid to the ground with Bard still on top of it, and the Bowman freed his sword. "Da!" Tilda exclaimed. She scrambled up from the ground and ran up to Bard, followed by Bain and Sigrid. Marie got up a moment later.

Bard pulled the children into a hug just as Marie approached him. She saw him wince as they jarred a sore spot, but he didn't say anything, choosing instead to pull them closer to him. "Are you alright?" he asked them quietly.

"We're fine," Sigrid replied.

"Marie took care of us!" Tilda added.

Bard released the three of them and turned to Marie, who had been standing by their side. It seemed like he was about to say something, but he suddenly stumbled. Marie steadied him before he could fall. "Are you hurt?" she asked urgently.

He shook his head. "Dazed, that's all," he answered. "I'll be alright."

She forced a small smile, trying to keep the mood light. "That was a stupid move with the cart," she said.

Bard laughed. "It was, wasn't it," he agreed dryly. But the smile slid from his face as he glanced up at the fighting. "It seems that Gandalf was right. We should have listened to him."

Marie grimaced. "Well, it's too late to do anything about it now," she said. She looked at the fight, which was slowly making its way towards them. "We should probably go."

He nodded. "You're right," he replied. He took Tilda's hand. "Let's go."

000

The five of them hurried away from the fighting and soon found themselves in an empty street closer to the main part of Dale. When he was sure that it was safe, Bard pulled them to a stop in the middle of the street. "Listen," he said. "I need you to gather the women and children. Take them to the Great Hall and barricade the door." Gently, he took Bain's sword from him. "You understand- you must not come out for any reason!"

Marie gave him a look. "What about you?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I'll be fine," he answered.

Tilda frowned. "We wanna stay with you!" she protested.

"Show your father some respect!"

They all turned around to see that Alfrid had appeared out of nowhere. Bard and Marie gave him an annoyed look, but Alfrid ignored them and started pushing Sigrid and Tilda away. "You leave it to me, sire," Alfrid reassured Bard. He sneered at the girls as the three of them headed away. "You heard him, we make it to the Great Hall!"

Marie looked at Alfrid in disbelief. " _We?_ " she repeated.

Bard nodded. "Women and children only, Alfrid," he agreed. "I need every man fighting. See that you return." He thrust Bain's sword into his hands.

Alfrid accepted the sword, even though he seemed flustered. "I'll get them to safety, sire," he promised. Suddenly, his eyes fixed on something behind Bard and Marie, and the two of them turned to see that a group of Orcs was approaching. "... and my sword is yours to command," he continued nervously, even though he was already inching away. Quickly, he turned and started rounding up the people nearby. "Get up!"

Bard watched him go, then turned to Bain and held his face earnestly. "Look after them!" he instructed.

Bain nodded. "I will," he promised. He turned and headed after Alfrid and his sisters.

And then it was just Bard and Marie left, as well as the group of Orcs down the street. "Be safe," Bard pleaded.

Marie smiled at him. "I should be saying that to you," she said. She pulled him into a hug, which he returned readily. "Be careful."

"I will," Bard murmured. Then, without warning, he was pushing her away, drawing his sword and walking towards the Orcs. "GO!"

Marie hesitated, watching as he took on the Orcs. She knew that she shouldn't leave him out here alone, but what else could she do? She couldn't fight, and besides, he needed her with the women and children, to make sure that they were alright.

"Move it, Marie!" Alfrid shouted from behind her.

She took one last glance at Bard, then turned and ran after Alfrid and the children.

"Shift it, granny!" Alfrid snapped to an old lady who had been hiding in one of the buildings. He yanked her out and shoved her into the street.

Seeing Bain and Marie next to him, Alfrid rudely shoved the sword into Bain's hands, then hurried off. Marie and Bain shared a disgusted look. "If I punch him, do you think Da would get mad at me?" he asked.

Marie grimaced. "I doubt it," she answered.

000

As Bard and his men continued fighting the Orcs, Marie, Alfrid, and the children hurried through the streets, rounding up everyone they found as they made their way towards the Great Hall. "Make for the Great Hall!" Bain shouted as they ran.

Within a few moments the Great Hall was visible, and their group hadn't run into any Orcs- luckily. Marie was in the middle of helping an old lady towards the doors when someone suddenly plowed into her, and she stumbled before she found her balance. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that it had been Alfrid; the former deputy was running as fast as he could towards the Hall, his arms flailing in the air and knocking people to the ground. "Out of my way!" he shouted. "Abandon the cripples!"

Marie groaned.

"Bain!" she called. The young boy turned in her direction. "Can you help those people up?!"

He nodded. "On it!" he replied. He sighed as he walked past her. "I really will punch him, I swear."

Before Marie realized it, she and the old lady she was helping were on the steps of the Great Hall, passing over the mark that Marie had carved there just last night as the Lady. Last night... it seemed so long ago.

She helped the old lady inside the building, then held open the doors for everyone else. It only took a few more moments for the rest of the people to hurry in, and then the courtyard was empty.

Marie grabbed the handles of the large doors, but she hesitated before she closed it. She glanced out at the city sprawled out in front of her, as if she would be able to see Bard from where she was standing.

And then she slammed the doors closed.


	15. Arrival of the Eagles

As the battle waged on outside the gates of Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield walked through a hall with a floor made of gold. He was wearing thick fur robes appropriate to his status as King Under the Mountain, and an ornate crown sat upon his head, the metal glinting dangerously in the light.

Voices were speaking to him in his head- or maybe they were voices that had spoken to him in the past, he couldn't tell. He could hear them as clearly as if they were right next to him, speaking in his ear... no, they were shouting at him, shouting words that struck him to the core. They sounded like people that they knew... but after a while, their voices faded into one tone, and he could no longer tell who was speaking; he could only hear the words as they echoed in his head, threatening to burst through his skull.

 _You sit here with a crown upon your head but you are lesser now than you have ever been... A sickness that drove your grandfather mad... Dain is surrounded... I am not my grandfather..._

Suddenly his head was quiet. If one were watching him, Thorin would seem like he was staring blankly at the golden floor; but in his mind the dragon Smaug was sliding in the floor beneath him, and then he was being swallowed by the gold, disappearing under the weight of it. For a few tense seconds, the hall was silent.

And then Thorin threw the crown from his head.

000

The battle wasn't going well.

Dain and his Dwarves were backed up against the moat of Erebor, and the Orcs were advancing on them. Bard and the Laketowners were doing their best to defend Dale, but it wasn't enough. Even the Elves were dying, their numbers gradually shrinking. Marie and the other Laketowners were hiding in the Great Hall, terrified and defenseless. Defeat seemed certain.

And then someone sounded a horn.

Everyone froze in confusion, and they all turned towards Erebor just in time to see the barricade of stones collapse. The rocks fell forward, forming a bridge over the moat. And the Company of Thorin Oakenshield charged.

The sight was inspiring, returning hope to the others. The Iron Hills Dwarves rallied to Thorin. Bard and his men redoubled their efforts. And inside the Great Hall...

"I say we stand with our men, in life and death!" Grotha declared loudly. She grabbed a spear and thrust it in the air. "Arm yourselves!"

Everyone let out a cheer and started claiming their own weapons; Bain even took his sword. "Wait!" Marie exclaimed, before anyone could continue. They all froze and turned to her.

Last week, Marie would have been terrified of addressing a crowd like this, but now she didn't even hesitate. "It's dangerous," she said. "Bard wants us to stay here."

Grotha just gave her a look. "Marie, what men want and what men need are two very different things," she told her.

 _Two very different things..._ Grotha was right. No matter what he said, Bard could do this alone. There was no way he and the others could fight such a large army of Orcs, even with the help of the Elves. He needed more fighters, and if there was anything that Marie had learned ever since she had come to Laketown, there were times when women were right for the job.

Besides, Marie had spent her entire life following her uncle's orders, but Bard had taught her to think for herself, to do what she wanted and not others. Why wouldn't that apply to what he said, too?

"Let's do this," Marie agreed.

Within a few minutes, everyone in the hall was holding a weapon, except for some of the younger children like Tilda. Marie had refused to let any of them near a sword, or any other weapon for that matter. Marie herself was holding a sword like Bain's; she wasn't exactly sure what to do with it, but she would figure it out later.

"Come with us, love," a woman said. Marie turned around to see that the woman who had spoken was addressing an older lady who was sitting down, hunched over her shawl.

The older lady coughed, the movement shaking her entire frame. "No, no, no!" she exclaimed shrilly. "You leave an old woman be."

But it didn't seem like the other woman was going to take no for an answer. "Don't be afraid," she urged gently.

"I said, GET OFF!"

Roughly, Grotha reached out and yanked off the old lady's shawl, revealing that the old lady was actually Alfrid in disguise. _Of course._ Marie resisted the urge to groan... or punch him.

Grotha glared down at Alfrid, who showed no shame in wearing a dress. Marie didn't even want to know where he had gotten a dress _from._ "Alfrid Lickspill, you are a coward," Grotha stated in disgust.

Alfrid's chin jutted up in defiance. "Coward?!" he protested. "Not every man is brave enough to wear a corset!"

But Grotha's glare just deepened. "You're not a man, you're a weasel!" she retorted. Dramatically, she turned and stomped off.

Alfrid turned his gaze to Marie, who had been standing off to the side with Bard's children. "I suppose you have something to say too, don't you," he sneered.

Marie just looked at him expressionlessly, her face unreadable. Just the sight of him reminded her of the years that she had spent with her uncle and the horrible way that both of them had treated her, never giving her a say in anything, never giving her a voice. But as she looked at him now, she wasn't angry, or scared; no, if anything, she pitied him, because he would never be able to look beyond his selfish desires to see the beauty that was in the simple things.

"I said that I want nothing more to do with you," she replied. "I still don't. Do whatever you want."

Without another word, she walked away.

For a few seconds after she left, Alfrid had the strangest feeling that he had disappointed her, and for some reason he felt _bad_ about it. But then, in their haste, someone knocked over an old porcelain vase, and it cracked on the floor. Gold coins came spilling out, and nobody besides him seemed to have noticed.

Somehow, he didn't feel bad anymore.

000

A few minutes later, Alfrid was running through the streets of the city, dodging Orcs while clutching the gold coins to his chest, using the bosom of the dress to hide them. Of course, the whole thing looked rather undignified, but he didn't care; all he wanted to do right now was to get out of this hellhole.

He had said that staying here was a bad idea- after they had found that the Dwarves were alive in the castle he had said so. He had even tried to flee with Marie. _We should follow your uncle,_ he had said. _Or at the very least, leave this place. We don't stand a chance of survival here, Marie, and you know it._ But no, she had refused to leave, and look where they were now. Caught in the middle of a battle that didn't concern them, being killed by the Orcs... and now she was going off to fight them, her and the rest of those idiot Laketowners.

But no, he was smarter than that. He was getting out of here before things got even worse.

Suddenly he heard the sound of Orcs approaching, and he hurried into a nearby alley, almost tripping on the hem of his dress as he did. It turned out that the alley led to one of the parapets of the city wall, and from where he stood he could look out and see the battlefield. The sound of the Orcs' footsteps drew closer, and he stumbled further into the alley, closer to the parapet.

And then an Orc burst out of nowhere, climbing over the wall and roaring loudly. Alfrid let out a high-pitched scream, and the Orc raised its club overhead, prepared to bash his skull in...

... but then an arrow came flying out of nowhere, killing the Orc. Alfrid screamed again and fell to the ground, causing some of the coins to fall out of his bosom.

 _What...?_

"Get up," a familiar voice snapped.

Alfrid stumbled to his feet and glared at the approaching figure of Bard the Dragon-slayer, who was holding his bow in his hand. He wasn't sure how Bard had managed to find him, but he didn't care; he wanted him gone. The fake politeness that he had been showing Bard the last few days fell away as he sneered at the Bowman. "Get away from me!" he exclaimed shrilly. "I don't take orders from you!"

But Bard merely looked on at him, his face just as expressionless as Marie's had been earlier. _What's wrong with these two?_ he thought angrily. _They act like they're the same person!_

Alfrid attempted to straighten his dress to preserve some sense of dignity. "People trusted you," he accused bitterly. "They listened to you. The Master's mantle was there for the taking! And you threw it away- for what?!"

Wordlessly, Bard turned to look over his shoulder. Alfrid followed his gaze to see Marie and Bard's children standing in a nearby doorway; Marie was smiling regretfully, as if she were saying, _You're not getting rid of us that easily._ Bard's gaze softened at the sight of them, and he smiled back. Then he turned back to Alfrid, his answer written in his eyes.

Alfrid looked from Bard to his family and back again, and he scoffed. Huffing angrily, he turned and stomped away.

He had only made it a few steps when Bard called,"Alfrid!" The former deputy turned back around, fully prepared for a lecture, but Bard just nodded to his dress. "Your slip is showing."

Giving him the best dirty look that he could manage, Alfrid adjusted his dress, then turned and ran away.

That was the last that they ever saw of him.

As soon as he was gone, Bard turned to his family. "What are you doing here?!" he demanded. "I told you not to leave the Great Hall!" Despite his words, he pulled his children into a hug, obviously relieved that they were safe.

"Grotha may or may not have inspired a rebellion amongst the women," Marie admitted. Bard released his children and wrapped his arms around Marie, pulling her closer to him. She returned the gesture, taking comfort in his strong arms. "We want to help."

Bard pulled back, keeping his hands on her waist as he looked at her. "I don't want you to get hurt," he told her.

Marie's chin jutted up. "And we don't want you to get hurt, either," she replied. "You need everything you can get, Bard, and that includes us."

Their eyes locked, grey against green, and for a second Bard was distracted by the steely glint in her eyes, the look that told him she wasn't going anywhere, whatever he said. "What about the children?" he finally asked.

She smiled. "They've promised to hide somewhere and stay out of trouble," she answered. She turned to look at the three of them. " _Right?_ "

Tilda nodded. "Promise!" she agreed.

Sigrid placed a hand on Tilda's shoulder. "I'll watch over her," she reassured them.

Bain straightened, as if he were trying to look older. "And I'll make sure both of them are safe," he added.

Bard was silent for a few seconds as he stared at them, but then he smiled, his eyes softening. "You're just like your mother," he told them. He pulled the children into another hug. "I'm proud of you. All of you."

Marie watched from a distance, smiling at the sight of the family that she had learned to love over the last few days. Alfrid had said that this battle didn't involve them, but that was where he was wrong. If the Orcs had their way, moments like these would be gone. Love, friendship, family, hope... that was what they were fighting for.

 _Like the Lady,_ Marie thought.

Bard pulled away and pushed his children in the direction of the doorway that they had been standing in before. "Go," he instructed. "Hide, and don't come out." They nodded and ran off.

Once they were gone and safely hidden, Bard turned to Marie, a look of grim determination on his face. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Marie nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be," she answered. She knew that she should be terrified right now, but somehow she was calm; it was almost like going out on one of her night missions as the Lady. She could do this.

Bard raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how to use that?" he asked, gesturing to her sword.

She glanced down at it, then looked back up at him with a lopsided grin. "Yeah, you hold it and swing it, right?" she replied.

He smiled at her joke, but his eyes were heavy with worry. "Right," he agreed. "Hold it and swing it. And _stay by me_." She nodded, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful."

Marie nodded. "I will," she promised.

They were silent for a second as they looked at each other, both of them perfectly aware that this might be the last moment of peace that they would ever have.

"Bard-"

"Marie-"

Both of them smiled, neither seeming inclined to finish what they had started to say. "Let's go," Bard finally told her. Marie nodded, and they ran off towards the battle side by side.

000

As Bard and Marie fought off the Orcs in Dale, Thorin Oakenshield was facing his archenemy Azog the Defiler on the slopes of Ravenhill. Legolas had killed the Orc commander Borg, but not before the Orc had murdered Kili and injured Tauriel. Bilbo, who had followed Thorin to Ravenhill, had been knocked unconscious as he and Dwalin attempted to defend the hill against the approaching Orc armies. Fili had fallen at the hands of Azog. Dain and his Dwarves from the Iron Hills continued to defend Erebor.

And then the Eagles came.

The giant birds flew in from the west, passing over Ravenhill where Thorin and Azog were dueling. Directed by the wizard Radagast the Brown, who was riding on the back of Gwaihir the Wind-lord, they sailed through the armies of Orcs, causing chaos amongst the troops and sending many Orcs flying into the air. Their large wingspans cast dark shadows over the battlefield below them. Beorn, the last skin-changer, dropped from the back of an Eagle and transformed into a bear, his claws flashing angrily as he took on the Orcs.

The extra reinforcements were all that was needed to change the tide of the battle. Within a few minutes, the Orc troops were scattered, either dead or fleeing. For once, the Men, Elves, and Dwarves all agreed to let them run. Thorin Oakenshield had killed Azog the Defiler. Bard and Marie, still in the streets of Dale, embraced each other, neither of them able to hold back tears of joy. Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda ran up to them, and Bard pulled them into the hug as well. All around, the troops let out a roar of victory.

It was over. The battle had been won.


	16. Life Goes On

Years later, Marie would have trouble remembering exactly what had happened during those few days after the Battle of the Five Armies. All she knew was that she and the rest of the townspeople were constantly on their feet, healing the injured and burying the dead. After a while, the faces seemed to blend together, and seeing the pain and suffering caused by the battle caused her spirits to sink.

Grotha worked beside her, just as she had after Smaug's attack. Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda followed the two of them, assisting when they could and staying out of the way when they couldn't. For the most part none of them spoke, just worked in silence.

Marie was grateful for the companionship, but the one she truly wished to speak to was hardly there; Bard was so busy with his own duties that he barely had any time to talk to her or even his children. Still, she spoke with Thranduil often; according to the Elvenking, Bard spent most of his time with Dain and Thranduil, negotiating peace agreements between the three kingdoms. He had also taken it upon himself to plan the rebuilding effort for Dale and to help the others clean the streets. Between all of his duties, he returned home far after the children were asleep and was gone before the sun rose the next morning. The only time they had together was the few minutes before they went to sleep, but Bard was too tired to talk; instead, they just sat there side by side in silence and watched the fire flicker gracefully in the fireplace, a sharp contrast against the night sky. She was worried that he was overworking himself, but it was a burden he refused to share with anybody.

The Lady was out every night those days. Once Bard was asleep she would sneak out and meet up with Gandalf, who somehow always had fresh food for her. After a few nights of this she knew the streets of Dale just as well as she had those of Laketown.

Bard was still unaware of her secret. She knew that she should tell him, but it never seemed to be the right time. So she continued living her double life in silence, with only Gandalf aware of her secret.

News reached her that Fili, Kili, and Thorin Oakenshield were all dead, leaving Dain of the Iron Hills as heir to Erebor. Tauriel had been banished for disobeying orders, and Legolas had sent himself into exile. The news weighed heavily on Marie's heart, but in times like this the only thing people could do was to keep on moving.

000

It was a week after the battle that the Dwarves held a funeral for the sons of Durin.

The skies were overcast and the air was chilly. Even though none of the Men or Elves had been invited into the castle itself, they all stood in the streets of Dale and stared out at the closed gates of Erebor, silently paying homage. Marie could have sworn that she even saw Thranduil, but he was gone before she could get a closer look.

"Marie, why are we here?" Tilda asked.

Turning her gaze away from the castle, Marie looked at Bard's children, who were under her care as usual. "Important people died, Tilda," she answered. "Good people. We're here to honor them."

Tilda blinked. "Oh," she said.

Somehow, even though they were in the middle of a crowd, Marie sensed someone approaching them. She turned around, and her eyes landed on a familiar sight.

"Am I late?" Bard asked.

Instantly, Sigrid and Tilda tackled him in a hug, and Bard pulled them closer. Bain, however, nodded respectfully to his father. Bard smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder.

 _He's grown up now,_ Marie commented to herself. Even though she was by no means his mother, the thought made her swell with pride. The past few days had changed him, just as it had changed all of them.

And then, as usual, Bard turned his gaze to her. Sigrid and Tilda were still hugging him, so he couldn't greet her properly, but all that he wanted to say was written in his smile, which was so rare these days. _Thank you,_ he seemed to be saying.

She smiled back at him. _You're welcome,_ she replied.

Suddenly, a horn sounded from inside Erebor, and they turned back to the castle. Even though nothing had changed on the outside, Marie could sense the atmosphere turn grim as the funeral began.

Marie felt a warm arm around her shoulders, and she turned to see Bard standing there. His expression was grave as he stared out at Erebor. "He may have been the cause of all of this, but in the end he came around," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. She knew without having to ask that he was thinking of Thorin.

Wordlessly, Marie reached up and put her hand on Bard's arm.

He turned his gaze to her. "Dain has agreed to give us our portion of the treasure," he told her. "Rebuilding efforts will start tomorrow morning." A relieved smile formed on his face, even though it didn't quite reach the sadness in his eyes. "It's done."

She smiled back, relieved to hear the news. "Good," she replied. She hadn't realized how much she had been worrying about it until now, and she was glad to know that everything would turn out alright.

Suddenly she realized how close she and Bard were standing, and that if she really wanted to she could lean forward and kiss him. It seemed like Bard was thinking it too, and for a moment the silence between them was charged with energy.

But then they both flushed and looked away, remembering where they were. Bard cleared his throat awkwardly and removed his arm from her shoulders. Marie turned her attention back to Erebor, even though her face was still heated.

From the Great Hall of Dale, another horn answered the first: a last tribute from the men of Laketown to the Dwarves who had fought alongside them.

000

On the night of the funeral, King Dain hosted a feast in the castle so that they could honor the dead and celebrate their victory over Azog. The entire city of Dale was in attendance, as well as most of the Elves, even though they looked like they would rather be anywhere else than here. As soon as they stepped foot in the grand dining hall, Bard and Marie were rushed off to seats next to Dain at the head table, and Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda were gestured towards seats at the far end of the table. Also at the head table were the surviving members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, as well as a handful of Dain's lieutenants.

As expected, Bofur was sitting with the Company, and Marie smiled at him as she walked by. He smiled back, both of them remembering that time long ago when they had begged for shelter on the doorstep of Bard the Bowman.

"Ah, Bard!" Dain exclaimed as they sat down between him and Thranduil. The red-haired Dwarf was sitting at the head of the table, and a handful of empty beer mugs were already scattered around him despite the fact that no food had been served yet. "I'm glad you could make it!"

Bard nodded respectfully to their host. "We're honored to be invited, Your Highness," he replied.

Dain laughed heartily. "Oh, forget about the formalities!" he instructed. "We have fought the hordes of hell together, my brother-in-arms! Tales will be told of our battle for generations to come!"

Even though he seemed rather uncomfortable, Bard nodded. "Aye," he agreed.

Without warning, Dain leaned forward clapped him on the back. "I hear that you will rebuild your kingdom," he said. "If you need aid, do not be afraid to ask."

Bard blinked. "I..." he trailed off, seeming too surprised to form a full thought.

"He means to say that we thank you for your generous offer," Marie interrupted. "What would you wish in exchange?"

That seemed to bring Bard back to his senses, because he cleared his throat. "Aye," he added quickly.

Dain grinned at her. "Ah, a bright one, she is," he commented. "Nothing would be asked for, my fair lady. Let this be the beginning of a strong alliance between our kingdoms!"

Bard nodded to him. "Our thanks," he replied.

Formalities over with, Dain turned to speak to someone on his other side. As soon as his attention was elsewhere, Thranduil acknowledged the two of them with a slight inclination of his head. "Bard," he said. "Marie."

Bard smiled broadly, obviously more at ease with Thranduil than he had been with Dain. "Thranduil," he greeted. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Thranduil grimaced, looking comically uncomfortable. "Politics," he grumbled. "I must show my faith in our new agreement with the Dwarves; otherwise I'd be halfway to Mirkwood by now." He turned his gaze to Marie. "Mithrandir left this afternoon to escort the Halfling home, and he gave me a message for you."

Marie blinked. "Oh?" she asked.

The Elvenking sighed. "He wishes me to tell you to keep bringing hope," he told her. Marie tensed, knowing exactly what Gandalf meant. Bard shot her a confused look, silently asking the obvious question, but she just shook her head. "He has also asked me to open my food stores to you if you ever wish. May I ask why?"

Marie hesitated, trying to come up with an answer. "I... uh... well... I don't know," she lied.

Thranduil eyed her suspiciously, and Marie held her breath. "Very well," he finally said. "Regardless, I will do as he says." He sighed. "If the wizard was right about the Orcs, he may be right about this too."

She nodded, trying to hide her relief. "Thank you," she replied.

Once the food was served it didn't take long for spirits to rise, and soon the dining hall was filled with loud laughter and overlapping conversations. When the Dwarvish musicians came out and started playing a tune, there was a loud cheer from everyone in the hall. Quickly, tables were moved aside to create a dance floor in the middle of the room.

Bard turned to her, eyes shining brightly for the first time in days. "Shall we?" he asked.

Marie laughed. "Of course," she replied.

It seemed like all of the Dwarves and Laketowners were dancing and singing along merrily to old folk tunes; only the Elves remained where they were. Marie lost all sense of time as she danced with the others; she was only aware of the music and her rapidly-beating heart and Bard, who had a broad grin on his face as he danced alongside her, never letting go of her hand. Just looking into his stone-grey eyes, bright and unburdened by worry, made all of her troubles fade away, because nothing mattered besides right here and right now.

000

Eventually Bard and Marie had danced to the point that they couldn't dance anymore. Holding hands and laughing, they stumbled out of the dining hall and headed through a doorway out onto a large balcony that was completely empty.

The sharp night air cut through the haze of the feast, and Marie breathed in deeply as her mind cleared. From where she was standing she could see across the plains to Dale. With a shock she realized that they had been living in the city for two weeks now. Two weeks... It couldn't have only been two weeks, but at the same time it seemed like so long ago that she had first stepped onto the streets that she now knew by heart.

She sighed as she leaned against the railing, angling herself so that she was facing Bard. "I never thought that I would actually call this place home," she commented.

Bard smiled softly as he stared out at the city. "Aye," he agreed, but he sounded distracted. "Neither did I."

Marie heard the tone in his voice and frowned in concern. "Bard?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

He turned his gaze to her, and suddenly his expression was serious, even though his eyes were gentle. "Marie..." he trailed off. He turned so that he was facing her and took both of her hands in his. "What are you going to do once Dale is rebuilt?"

She hesitated. "I... I haven't really had much time to think about it," she admitted. "But... I think I'm going to stay." She frowned. "You are too, right?"

Bard smiled. "I am," he reassured her. She relaxed, smiling back at him, but suddenly he was serious again. "I asked because... I was hoping you could move in with us."

Marie blinked in surprise. "Move in with you?" she repeated, just in case she hadn't heard him right.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Aye," he agreed. "It was Sigrid's idea, actually- no, scratch that, it was mine. But she loves you- all the children do, and..." He paused and looked away for a moment, but then he turned his gaze back to her. "And I do too."

If Marie had been startled before, that was nothing compared to what she felt now. She stared on in shock, unable to form words.

Bard, taking her silence the wrong way, continued talking, his words coming out faster and faster. "If you don't feel the same, I understand," he told her. "You deserve better- someone who doesn't have three children already and was married once before. I know that, and I know that it's not fair to put you in this position. But every moment that I spend with you makes me happier than I've been for a long time, and I can't imagine living without you. I-"

It seemed like he would continue talking, but suddenly Marie leaned forward and kissed him, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.

His lips were chapped, but they were gentle against hers as they moved together. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his warm body, and she noted that despite all that had happened he still smelled as he had that night that he had given her his coat: a strange mixture of fish and wood that was somehow comforting. She reached out and knotted her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her so that there was no space between them.

They both pulled away at the same time, out of breath, and they rested their foreheads together. Marie smiled at him. "I'll move in with you," she said. "And... and I feel the same way about you." If Bard noticed that she hadn't said _I love you_ , he didn't press it, which she was grateful for; she wasn't ready to say it, not yet.

Instead, he just smiled back, happier than she had ever seen him before. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his calloused hand rubbing against her cheek. "Before we go any further, I just want you to know that if you ever start... comparing yourself... to my wife, there's no need to," he told her. "You both are two different people, and I'll treat you as such." He pulled back so that he could look her in the eye. "Besides, I like you the way you are."

Marie laughed, but the words struck a chord in her. _The way you are..._ He didn't even know exactly who she was.

He moved to pull her closer again, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him. "I have something I need to tell you," she said. He paused, watching her carefully.

For a second she hesitated. But then she looked into his eyes, his earnest expression, and that gave her the strength to say the words she had never said in her entire life.

"Bard... I'm the Lady."

For a few seconds, he was quiet as he stared at her, clearly not comprehending what she had just told him. Marie watched him anxiously, waiting for a response.

"... You're the Lady," he repeated.

She nodded. "I am."

And then he burst out laughing. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground, spinning her in a circle. Marie let out a startled shriek, but she was grinning all the same. "Oh, you marvelous woman!" he exclaimed. "How did I not see this?!" He put her down and kissed her again, but he pulled back after a moment and grinned down at her. "Why didn't you tell me before?!" His tone wasn't accusing; rather, he seemed amused by the whole thing.

She looked into his eyes, shining with amusement, and she laughed, wondering why she had ever thought that telling him the truth would cause him to reject her. "I don't know," she admitted.

He laughed too, and he pulled her closer to him. "I love you," he said.

Marie smiled, not even hesitating this time. "I love you too," she replied.


	17. The Lady

Seven years after the Battle of the Five Armies, Gandalf the Grey Wizard found himself in Dale. He barely recognized the city; the last time he had been here the streets were filled with rubbish and the buildings were run-down, but now everything had been repaired and the kingdom was thriving with wealth. There were extravagant waterways and grand fountains and large pools, and the stone-paved roads seemed to shine in the sunlight.

Without much fuss he was admitted to the Great Hall, where Bard was waiting for him. The Bowman was dressed in plain clothes that spoke of moderate wealth and had a sword at his waist; his hair was just as long as it had been seven years ago but was in the process of greying, and he had new wrinkles on his face, a mixture of worry and smiles. His stature was undiminished from those days long ago when he had killed a dragon and led an army to battle. He wore no crown on his head, but his authority was clear.

"King Bard," Gandalf greeted.

Bard smiled and clapped him on the back. "Gandalf," he replied. "It's been too long."

Gandalf looked at him approvingly. "You've done well, it seems," he commented. "King of Dale... who would have known?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Bard chuckled. "Aye," he agreed. "I wasn't going to accept when the people offered, but they insisted."

The wizard nodded. "I see," he said. "And your family?"

A smile spread across Bard's face, and his eyes shone with happiness. "A wife and four children," he answered. "I couldn't ask for more."

Gandalf did the math quickly in his head; Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda made three children, but... four?

As if on cue, there was a shout from outside the Great Hall, and a little boy of about five years ran into the room, waving a wooden sword in the air. His brown hair was the same shade as Bard's and was almost as long, and the top of his head reached Gandalf's waist. Like Bard, he wore causal clothes. "ROAR!" he shouted. "I'm going to kill the dragon!"

But then he paused when he saw Bard and Gandalf there, and he blinked as he lowered his sword. "Hello," he said to Gandalf, not ashamed in the slightest. "Are you one of Da's friends?"

Bard laughed and ruffled the little boy's hair. "This is Gandalf the Grey, son," he answered.

The boy smiled at Gandalf. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

Gandalf knelt so that he could look into the boy's eyes; they were a bright green shade that Gandalf had only ever seen once in his life. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Diron," he told him.

Gandalf nodded wisely. "A strong name," he answered.

Diron looked at him with curious eyes. "Da says you're a wizard," he said. "Can you do magic?"

Bard cleared his throat. "Diron, be polite," he scolded.

Suddenly, before anybody could reply, the doors of the Great Hall opened again, and this time a woman strode in. "Bard, Bain just returned from the Woodland Realm-" she started, but then she stopped and smiled happily when her gaze landed on the wizard.

"Hi, Ma!" Diron exclaimed.

The woman was wearing an unadorned golden-brown dress with a brown shawl over her shoulders. Her blonde hair was tied back to keep it out of her face, but a few stray strands had escaped. She had brilliant green eyes that were the same shade as Diron's, and she held herself with the same silent grace that Gandalf had noted the first time that he had seen her seven years ago, riding with Bard on horseback as they returned to Dale.

Gandalf bowed his head to her. "Queen Marie," he greeted.

Bard walked up to her and kissed her quickly, causing her to smile and Diron to groan theatrically. "My love," he muttered to her. "I was just about to call for you."

She laughed. "It's a good thing I was on my way, then," she replied. Bard chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she turned to the wizard with a smile on her face. "It's good to see you, Gandalf. But I don't go by Queen Marie."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked. "You are queen, though?"

Marie smiled. "Of course," she answered. "But everyone calls me _Lady_ Marie, even though they don't know why. You understand, don't you?"

There was a moment of silence, but then Gandalf chuckled as he remembered the young woman who he had once spoken to in an alley at night, urging her to be the Lady once more. She had changed since then; she was no longer the shy niece of the Master, a soul divided between two lives. No, she had found her peace, her balance. Standing here now, she was both Marie and the Lady.

"Indeed, Lady Marie," Gandalf said. "I do."

Marie, Bard, and Gandalf shared a look, united by the knowledge of a secret that only they knew. Suddenly Marie burst out laughing, followed closely by Bard and Gandalf.

And Diron laughed as well, his carefree giggles louder than the rest of them even though he didn't understand why they were laughing in the first place.


End file.
